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"She  cast  herself  into  his  arms.'^ 

Drawn  by  Hii^ene  Grivaz. 

SULTANETTA. 


Copyright,  1896, 
Bt  Little,  Bkowm,  and  Compant. 


UKTTBIUtTT   FKUUI     •    JOHM   WIUNM» 
AMU    SUM       •      CAMttKinuR,    U.S.A. 


THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


I. 

FORTY    DEGREES    IN   THE   SHADE.* 

The  sad,  sonorous  voice  of  the  muezzin  was  heard  as  a 
dirge  for  the  brilliant  May  day  that  was  just  sweeping 
into  eternity. 

"Allah!  it  is  hot  weather  for  Derbend!  Go  upon 
the  roof,  Kassime,  and  see  how  the  sun  is  setting 
behind  the  mountain.  Is  the  west  red?  Are  there 
clouds  in  the  sky  ?  " 

"No,  uncle;  the  west  is  as  blue  as  the  eyes  of 
Kitchina;  the  sun  is  setting  in  all  its  glory;  it  looks 
like  a  flaming  rose  upon  the  breast  of  evening,  and  the 
last  ray  that  falls  upon  the  earth  has  not  to  pierce  the 
slightest  fog." 

Night  has  unfurled  her  starry  fan ;  the  shadows  have 
fallen. 

"  Go  up  on  the  roof,  Kassime,"  bade  the  same  voice, 
"  and  see  if  the  dew  is  not  dripping  from  the  rim  of  the 
moon.  Is  she  not  lurking  in  a  misty  halo,  like  a  pearl 
in  its  brilliant  shell  1  " 

^1°  Eeaumur  ia  equivalent  to  2^°  Fahrenheit.  —  Tb. 
1 


2  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

**  No,  iincle;  the  moon  is  floating  in  an  azure  ocean; 
she  is  pouring  her  burning  beams  into  the  sea.  The 
roofs  are  as  dry  as  the  steppes  of  the  Mogan,  and  the 
scorpions  are  playing  about  gayly." 

"  Ah,"  said  tlie  old  man,  with  a  sigh,  '*  it  means  that 
to-morrow  will  be  as  warm  as  to-day.  The  best  thing 
to  do,  Kassime,  is  to  go  to  bed." 

And  the  old  man  falls  asleep,  dreaming  of  his  silver; 
and  his  niece  falls  asleep  dreaming  of  what  a  young  girl 
of  sixteen  always  dreams,  whatever  her  nationality  may 
be, — of  love;  and  the  town  falls  asleep  dreaming  that 
it  was  Alexander  the  Great  who  had  built  the  Caucasian 
Wall  and  forged  the  iron  gates  of  Derbend. 

And  so,  toward  midnight,  everything  slept. 

The  only  sounds  to  be  heard,  in  the  general  still- 
ness, were  the  warnings  of  the  sentinels  to  each  other, 
•  Slotichay  I  "  (watch !)  and  the  moaning  of  the  Caspian 
sea,  as  it  advanced  to  press  its  humid  lips  upon  the 
burning  sands  of  the  shore. 

One  could  have  fancied  the  souls  of  the  dead  to  be 
communing  with  eternity,  and  this  conception  would 
have  been  the  more  striking,  since  nothing  so  resembles 
a  vast  cemetery  as  the  city  of  Derbend. 

Long  before  day  the  surface  of  the  sea  seemed  ablaze. 
The  swallows,  awake  before  the  muezzin,  were  singing 
upon  the  mosque. 

True,  they  did  not  much  precede  him.  The  sounds 
of  his  footsteps  put  them  to  flight.  Ho  advanced  uj)on 
the  minaret,  bowing  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  crying 
out  in  measured  tones  that  lent  his  words  the  effect,  if 
not  the  form ,  of  a  chant,  — 

"  Awake  ye,  arise,  Mussulmans;  prayer  is  better  than 
•leepl" 

One  Yoioe  answered  his;  it  said,  — 


FORTY  DEGREES  IN  THE  SHADE.  3 

"  Go  up  on  the  roof,  Kassime,  and  see  if  a  mist  is  not 
descending  from  the  mountains  of  Lesghistan.  Tell  me, 
is  not  the  sea  obscured  ?  " 

"No,  uncle;  the  mountains  seem  covered  with  pure 
gold;  the  sea  shines  like  a  mirror;  the  flag  above  the 
fortress  of  Nazinkale  hangs  in  folds  along  its  staif  like 
a  veil  about  a  young  girl's  form.  The  sea  is  still ;  not 
the  slightest  pufF  of  wind  lifts  an  atom  of  dust  from  the 
highway;  all  is  calm  on  the  earth,  all  serene  in  the  sky." 

The  face  of  the  old  man  became  gloomy,  and,  after 
performing  his  ablutions,  he  went  up  on  the  roof  to 
pray. 

He  unfolded  the  prayer-rug  that  he  carried  under  his 
arm  and  knelt  upon  it,  and,  when  he  had  finished  his 
prayer  by  rote,  he  began  to  pray  from  the  heart. 

"  Bismillaliir  rahmanir  rahim  !  "  he  cried,  looking 
sadly  about  him. 

Which  means,  — 

"  May  my  voice  resound  to  the  glory  of  the  holy  and 
merciful  God ! " 

Then  he  proceeded  to  say  in  Tartar  what  we  shall 
say  in  French,  at  the  risk  of  divesting  the  prayer  of 
Kassime's  uncle  of  the  picturesque  character  imparted 
to  it  by  the  language  of  Turkestan. 

"  0  clouds  of  spring-time,  children  of  our  world,  why 
do  ye  linger  on  the  rocky  heights?  why  hide  ye  in 
caves,  like  Lesghian  brigands.  Ye  like  to  rove  about 
the  mountains,  and  sleep  upon  the  snowy  peaks  of 
granite.  Be  it  so ;  but  could  ye  not  find  yourselves 
better  amusement  than  pumping  all  the  humidity  from 
our  plains,  only  to  turn  it  upon  forests  that  are  impene- 
trable to  man  and  permit  to  descend  into  our  valleys 
naught  but  cataracts  of  flint  that  look  like  the  dried 
bones  of  your  victims,  ye  capricious  children  of  the  air? 


4  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

See  how  our  unhappy  earth  opens  a  thousand  mouths  1 
She  is  parched  witli  thirst;  she  implores  a  little  rain. 
See  how  the  wheat-blades  shrink ;  how  they  break  when 
a  butterfly  imprudently  lights  upon  them;  how  they 
lift  their  heads,  hoping  to  inhale  a  little  freshness,  and 
are  met  by  the  sun's  rays,  which  lap  them  like  flame. 
The  wells  are  dry;  the  flowers  hold  no  perfume;  the 
leaves  on  the  trees  shrivel  and  fall;  the  grass  dries  up; 
the  madder  is  lost,  the  crickets  grow  hoarse,  the  death- 
rattle  of  the  cicada  is  heard,  the  buffaloes  fight  for  a 
streamlet  of  mud;  the  children  dispute  over  a  few  drops 
of  water.  0  God!  O  God!  what  is  to  become  of  us? 
Drouth  is  the  mother  of  famine ;  famine  is  the  mother 
of  pestilence;  pestilence  is  the  twin  of  robbery  I  0 
cool  wind  of  the  mountains,  waft  hither  on  your  wings 
the  blessing  of  Allah!  Ye  clouds,  life-giving  bosoms, 
pour  the  milk  of  heaven  down  upon  the  land!  Whirl 
into  storms,  if  ye  will,  but  refresh  the  earth!  Strike 
down  the  wicked  with  your  thunderbolts,  if  ye  deem  it 
best,  but  spare  the  innocent!  Gray  clouds,  wings  of 
the  angels,  bring  us  moisture;  come,  hasten,  fly!  Speed 
ye,  and  ye  shall  have  welcome. " 

But  the  old  Tartar  prays  in  vain,  the  clouds  are  in- 
visible. It  is  sultry,  it  is  stifling,  and  the  inhabitants 
of  Derbend  are  quite  prepared  to  seek  for  coolness  in 
their  ovens. 

And  note  well  that  this  was  the  month  of  May,  just 
when  St.  Petersburg  hears  a  loud  crashing  at  the  north- 
east as  the  ice  of  the  Ladoga  breaks  up  and  threatens 
to  sweep  away  the  bridges  of  the  Neva;  when  a  man 
catches  cold  while  crossing  the  Place  d'Isaac;  when  he 
gets  inflammation  of  the  chest  by  turning  the  comer  of 
the  Winter  Palace;  when  people  shout  at  each  other, 
from  Smolnyi  to  the  English  embankment, — 


FORTY  DEGREES  IN  THE  SHADE.  5 

"  You  are  going  out?     Don't  forget  your  cloaks!  " 

At  St.  Petersburg  they  were  thinking  of  the  spring, 
which  was,  perhaps,  approaching;  at  Derbend  they  took 
thought  of  the  harvesting,  which  was  almost  at  hand. 

For  five  weeks,  not  a  drop  of  rain  had  fallen  in  South 
Daghestan,  and  it  would  have  been  forty  degrees  in  the 
shade  if  there  had  been  any  shade  in  Derbend.  As  a 
fact,  it  was  fifty-two  degrees  in  the  sun. 

A  drouth  in  the  Orient  is  a  terrible  thing.  It  scorches 
the  fields  and  deprives  every  living  creature  of  nourish- 
ment,—  the  birds  of  the  air,  the  beasts  of  the  field,  the 
dwellers  in  cities.  In  a  country  where  the  transporta- 
tion of  grain  is  always  difficult,  often  impossible,  drouth 
is  invariably  the  forerunner  of  famine.  An  Asiatic 
lives  from  day  to  day,  forgetful  of  yesterday,  unmindful 
of  to-morrow.  He  lives  thus  because  ease  and  far 
niente  are  his  dearest  enjoyments;  but  when  there  is  no 
Joseph  to  interpret  the  parable  of  the  seven  lean  kine, 
when  misfortune  falls  suddenly  upon  his  shoulders  in 
the  hideous  guise  of  famine,  when  to-morrow  becomes 
to-day,  he  begins  to  complain  that  he  is  not  granted  the 
means  of  living.  Instead  of  seeking  them,  he  waxes 
wroth,  and,  when  he  should  act,  his  cowardice  augments 
the  evil,  as  his  incredulity  has  abridged  it. 

You  can  now  judge  of  the  trouble  they  were  in  at 
Derbend,  a  city  wholly  Tartar,  and,  consequently, 
wholly  Asiatic,  when  this  desert  heat  began  to  destroy 
the  prospects  of  both  merchants  and  husbandmen. 

To  tell  the  truth,  at  that  time  Daghestan  had  many 
reasons  for  anxiety;  the  fanatical  Kasi  Mullah,  the 
adoptive  father  of  Schamyl,  was  at  the  height  of  his 
fame;  the  inhabitants  of  Daghestan  had  revolted,  and 
more  bullets  had  been  sown  in  their  fields  than  wheat; 
fire  had  destroyed  the  houses,  whose  ashes  the  sun  kept 


6  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

hot;  and  the  mountaineers,  instead  of  harvesting,  rodo 
under  the  standard  of  Kasi  Mullah  or  hid  themselves  in 
caves  and  forests  to  escape  the  Russians,  or,  rather,  to 
fall  upon  their  backs  when  they  were  least  on  guard. 

The  result  was  not  difficult  to  foretell,  —  it  was 
famine.  The  sowing  not  having  been  done,  the  harvest 
was  wanting.  Anything  that  the  war  had  spared  — 
silver  plate,  rich  arras,  beautiful  carpets  —  was  sold  for 
a  mere  trifle  at  the  bazaar.  The  most  beautiful  necklace 
of  pearls  in  Derbend  could  have  been  bought  with  a 
sack  of  flour. 

The  man  possessed  of  neither  plate,  nor  arms,  nor 
tapestries,  nor  pearls,  began  upon  his  flocks,  eating  such 
as  had  been  left  him  by  friend  and  foe,  or  Russian  and 
mountaineer.  The  poor  began  to  come  down  from  the 
mountains  and  beg  for  alms  in  the  city,  while  waiting 
until  they  could  take  without  asking. 

At  last,  vessels  loaded  with  flour  arrived  from  Astra- 
khan. Through  pity  or  fear,  the  rich  helped  the  poor; 
the  people  were  quieted  for  a  time. 

The  new  harvest  could  yet  right  matters. 

The  f3te  of  the  Khatil  had  come,  and  it  had  been 
celebrated  by  the  inhabitants  of  Derbend. 

The  Khatil  is  a  religious  festival  in  memory  of  the 
fate  of  Shah  Hussein,  the  first  caliph,  a  martyr  of  the 
sect  of  Ali.  They  made  merry  while  it  lasted,  with 
the  childish  gayety  of  the  Orientals. 

Thanks  to  this  f8te,  the  only  diversion  of  the  people 
during  the  entire  year,  they  had  gradually  forgotten  the 
crops  and  the  heat,  or,  rather,  they  had  forgotten  noth- 
ing; no,  they  had  in  all  simplicity  thanked  Heaven  that 
the  rain  had  not  interfered  with  their  pleasures.  But, 
when  the  f?te  was  over,  when  they  found  themselves 
face  to  face  with  the  reality,  when  they  awoke  with 


FORTY  DEGREES  IN  THE  SHADE.  7 

parched  mouths,  when  they  saw  their  fields  baked  by 
the  sun,  they  lost  their  heads. 

It  was  interesting  then  to  note  the  wagging  of  red 
beards  and  black,  to  mark  the  rattling  of  beads  as  they 
slipped  through  the  fingers. 

Every  face  was  long,  and  only  repinings  were  heard. 

It  was  really  no  laughing  matter  to  lose  a  crop,  and 
have  to  pay  two  roubles  a  measure  for  flour  without 
knowing  what  must  be  paid  for  it  later. 

The  poor  trembled  for  their  lives,  the  rich  for  their 
purses.  Stomachs  and  pockets  crept  close  together  at 
the  mere  thought  of  it. 

Then  it  was  that  the  Mussulmans  began  to  pray  in 
the  mosque. 

The  rain  came  not. 

They  prayed  in  the  fields,  thinking  that  in  the  open 
air  they  stood  two  chances  to  one,  —  the  one  of  being 
seen ,  the  other  of  being  heard. 

Not  a  drop  of  water  fell. 

What  was  to  be  done  ? 

They  fell  back  on  their  magi. 

First,  the  boys  spread  their  handkerchiefs  in  the 
middle  of  the  streets  and  collected  the  coins  that  were 
thrown  into  them.  Purchasing  wax  tapers  and  rose- 
water,  and  fastening  tree  branches  to  the  body  of  the 
most  beautiful  boy,  they  decked  him  with  flowers  and 
covered  him  with  ribbons,  and  then  followed  him  in 
a  procession  through  the  streets,  chanting  verses  to 
Goudoul,  the  god  of  rain. 

The  hymn  ended  with  a  strophe  of  thanksgiving. 
They  did  not  doubt  that  Goudoul  would  answer  the 
prayers  of  his  worshippers. 

Thus,  for  three  days,  the  young  boys  shouted  at  the 
tops  of  their  voices  this  thanksgiving,  which  we  trans- 


8  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

late,    without   any   pretension   of    rendering   otherwise 
than  very  feebly  the  Arabic  poem:  — 

"  Qoudoul,  GoudoiU,  0  god  of  rain, 
The  drouth  has  fled  from  mount  and  plain ; 
Thy  voice  from  heaven  the  rain  doth  seud. 

Then  go,  fair  maid,  unto  the  rill! 

And  high  thy  jar  with  water  fill, 
Till  thou  beneath  it«  weight  doth  bend.** 

And  all  the  youths  of  Derbend  danced  around  the 
beribboned  and  garlanded  Tartar,  so  sure  of  rain  that, 
as  we  see,  they  were  sending  the  young  girls  in  advance 
to  the  fountain. 

And,  in  truth,  clouds  gathered  in  the  sky;  the  sun 
sulked  like  a  miser  obliged  to  surrender  the  treasure 
that  liad  been  intrusted  to  him.  The  city  took  on  the 
dreary  look  that  dull  weather  imparts. 

But  the  darker  the  sky  became,  the  greater  was  the 
people's  joy. 

A  few  drops  of  rain  fell. 

They  cried  out  with  fervor,  — 

"  Sekour  Allah!" 

But  their  joy  was  short-lived;  the  wind  blew  up 
from  Persia  as  hot  as  if  it  had  come  from  a  furnace,  and 
drove  away  the  very  last  remnant  of  a  cloud,  which 
betook  itself  to  St.  Petersburg  to  fall  as  snow.  The 
sun  glared  worse  than  ever;  the  grass  crumbled  under 
the  heat;  the  flowers  bent  their  heads,  and  the  faithful 
began  to  doubt,  not  Mahomet's  might,  but  Goudoul's. 

Another  day  dawned;  the  sun  pursued  his  blazing 
path,  then  ho  sank  behind  the  mountain,  like  a  weary 
traveller  in  the  burning  sands  of  the  desert. 

On  that  night  and  the  next  morning  the  two  conversa- 
tions which  opened  this  chapter  took  place  between 
Kassime  and  her  uncle. 


FORTY  DEGREES  IN  THE  SHADE.  0 

The  old  Tartar  had  then  addressed  to  the  clouds  the 
prayer  that  we  have  attempted  to  translate.  But,  in 
spite  of  his  fervent  prayer,  that  day,  like  the  preceding 
one,  passed  without  a  drop  of  rain. 

And  on  that  day  the  commander  of  Derhend  announced 
that  the  thermometer  had  registered  forty-two  degrees 
in  the  shade  and  fifty-two  degrees  in  the  sun. 


10  THB  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


IL 

A   HOLY    VUSSULMAir. 

Ah!  when  you  go  to  Derbend,  traveller,  from  what- 
ever country  you  hail, — whether  you  come  from  the 
south,  the  north,  the  east  or  the  west,  —  go,  I  entreat 
you,  to  see  the  principal  mosque. 

Otherwise,  as  the  Catholics  say,  you  will  have  been 
to  Borne  without  seeing  the  pope. 

What  would  you  have  to  relate  about  Derbend,  I  ask, 
if  you  had  not  seen  the  great  mosque  ? 

While,  if  you  have  seen  it,  it  is  a  very  different 
matter. 

"The  great  mosque,"  you  say,  snapping  your  snuff- 
box, or  flicking  the  ashes  from  your  cigar,  if  you  are 
only  a  smoker,  "the  mosque,"  you  say,  "was  formerly 
a  Christian  church  —  " 

Proceed  boldly,  I  assume  all  responsibility. 

"  It  was  a  church,  a  Christian  church,  rather,  because 
its  face  is  turned  to  the  east,  while  the  Mussulman 
mosques  of  the  northern  Orient  should  veer  southerly, 
in  nautical  phrase,  in  order  to  look  toward  the  two  holy 
cities,  —  Mecca,  where  the  prophet  was  bom;  Medina, 
where  he  was  buried. " 

This  gives  you  at  the  outset  a  somewhat  learned  air 
which  sits  well.     Proceed. 

"  Upon  entering,  you  discover  a  great  court  shaded 
by  magnificent  plane-trees,  with  a  well  in  the  centre. 


A  HOLY  MUSSULMAN.  11 

Three  doors,  always  open,  symbolically  and  practically 
summon  the  Mussulmans  to  prayer. 

"  A  verse  from  the  Koran  inscribed  over  the  principal 
door  attracts  the  attention.  Enter :  but  first  put  off  the 
shoes  from  your  feet;  put  away  earthly  thoughts  from 
your  mind.  Into  the  house  of  Allah  bring  not  the 
clay  of  the  street,  nor  of  the  mind.  Fall  upon  your 
knees  and  lift  up  your  prayer.  Reckon  not  your  rents, 
but  your  sins.  La  illah  il  Allah  I  Mohammed  rassoul 
Allah!  —  that  is  to  say:  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and 
Mahomet  is  his  prophet. " 

Here  you  cough  and  make  a  pause;  that  was  quite 
worth  the  trouble.     You  have  an  air  of  knowing  Turk. 

You  resume :  — 

"  Mussulmans  are  long  at  their  prayers,  remaining  on 
their  knees  or  prostrate  on  the  prayer-rug,  as  they  pass 
from  adoration  to  ecstasy,  and  nothing,  especially  in 
this  last  state,  can  then  distract  their  attention." 

Memory  then  reverts  to  the  past,  and  you  exclaim,— 

"Where  are  you,  Christian  builders  of  this  temple? 
are  you  now  remembered  anywhere  bat  in  heaven? 
You  are  forgotten,  even  in  the  history  of  Derbend,  and 
the  words  of  the  Koran  echo  to-day  where  formerly 
sounded  the  hymns  of  the  prophet  king." 

And  now  that  you  have  given  your  account,  now 
that  you  have  acquired  the  right  to  be  a  corresponding 
member  of  the  section  of  inscriptions  and  belles-lettres 
of  the  French  Academy,  the  most  learned,  as  you  know, 
of  all  academies,  I  again  take  up  the  thread  of  my 
history;  for  this,  pray  take  note,  is  history. 

I  resume  then,  the  thread  of  my  history. 

Among  Mussulmans  of  all  countries,  and  particularly 
among  the  Mussulmans  of  Daghestan,  the  court  of  the 
mosque  is  the  usual  place  of  meeting.     There  the  mer- 


12  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

chants  gather  to  talk  over  their  commercial  interests,  and 
the  Tartar  chiefs,  their  political  issues.  The  first  have 
but  one  aim,  —  to  get  the  better  of  their  customers;  the 
second,  but  one  hope,  —  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  their 
master.  The  former  have  vowed  to  Allah  to  be  honest; 
the  latter  have  sworn  to  the  emperor  to  be  faithful. 
But,  in  Asia,  oddly  enough,  —  and  this  will  astonish 
our  public  officers,  our  judges  and  senators,  —  the  oath 
is  regarded  as  a  simple  formality,  of  no  consequence  and 
not  binding. 

Does  this,  perchance,  mean  that  the  Asiatics,  whom 
we  believe  to  be  behind  us  in  the  matter  of  civilization, 
are,  on  the  contrary,  in  advance? 

This  would  be  very  humiliating,  and,  in  such  case, 
we  must  hasten  to  overtake  tliera. 

You  must  know  that  at  this  period  of  frightful  heat, 
which  we  have  tried  to  depict,  the  court  of  the  mosque 
—  the  only  place  where  there  were  any  trees,  conse- 
quently any  shade,  consequently  only  forty  degrees  of 
heat  —  was  full  of  people.  Effendis  with  white  beards, 
muftis  with  red,  were  talking  in  the  centre  of  circles 
more  or  less  wide,  according  as  they  were  more  or  less 
eloqumt;  but  the  learning  of  these  and  the  dignity  of 
those  did  not  cause  the  sky*  to  sweat  the  least  drop  of 
moisture,  and  the  beards  of  all  lengths  and  of  all  colors 
were  powerless  even  to  invent  an  equivalent.  They 
talked  much,  they  argued  still  more;  but  at  last  dis- 
course and  discussion  ended  this  way :  — 

**  Nedgeleikh  ?     (What  shall  we  do  now  t)  " 

Shoulders  went  up  to  the  ears,  eyebrows  to  the 
papaks;  many  voices  in  many  keys  united  in  one 
cry,— 

•  Amanil  amani/     (Spare  ixsl  spare  usl)" 

Finally,  a  prince  began  to  speak. 


A  HOLY  MUSSULMAN.  •  13 

He  was  not  only  a  prince,  but  a  saint,  —  a  combina- 
tion which  was  formerly  seen  in  Russia  and  France, 
but  which  is  to  be  met  with  to-day  only  in  the  Orient. 

It  is  true  that  his  saintship,  like  his  principality, 
came  to  him  by  inheritance;  he  was  related  in  the 
sixty-second  degree  to  Mahomet,  and,  as  we  know,  all 
relatives  of  Mahomet,  of  whatsoever  degree,  are  saints. 

His  eloquence  grew  heated  in  the  smoke  of  his 
kabam,  and  golden  speech  emanated  from  the  fumes  of 
the  Turkish  tobacco. 

"  ^Amani!  amanil '  you  cry  to  Allah;  and  think  you 
that,  for  this  one  word,  Allah  will  be  so  simple  as  to 
pardon  you  and  put  faith  in  your  repentance  without 
other  proof?  No!  kiss  not  the  Koran  with  lips  still 
smeared  with  the  fat  of  pork;  no,  you  do  not  deceive 
God  with  your  flatteries  and  plaintive  tones.  He  is 
not  a  Russian  governor;  he  has  known  you  this  long 
while.  Your  hearts  are  covered  with  more  stains  than 
there  are  sins  in  the  book  in  which  the  angel  Djebrael 
records  the  faults  of  men!  Do  not  think  to  cleanse 
your  hearts  from  one  day  to  the  next  by  prayer  and 
fasting.  God  beholds  your  image  in  the  sunlight  of 
day  and  the  starlight  of  night;  he  knows  every  thought 
of  your  mind,  every  impulse  of  your  heart;  he  kiaows 
how  you  go  to  the  pharmacies,  and,  on  a  pretext  of  buy- 
ing balsam,  manage  to  get  brandy  under  a  false  label. 
But  God  is  not  to  be  deceived  by  such  means.  The 
word  of  Mahomet  is  decisive :  '  He  who  in  this  world 
has  drunk  the  juice  of  the  vine,  in  the  other  shall  not 
drink  the  wine  of  gladness.'  No!  you  will  have  no 
rain  for  your  crops,  because  you  have  drained  the  source 
of  the  rains  of  heaven  by  exhausting  the  patience  of  the 
Lord!  Allah  is  great,  and  you  are  yourselves  the  cause 
of  your  misery." 


14  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

The  orator  ceased  speaking,  raise^  his  eyes  toward 
the  heavens,  grasped  his  heard  with  his  hand;  and,  in 
this  attitude,  he  was  not  unlike  Jnpiter  about  to  hurl 
from  his  mighty  hand  a  sheaf  of  thunderbolts. 

And,  sooth  to  say,  a  very  eminent  scholar  was  Mir 
Hadji  Festahli  Ismail  Ogli.  From  the  beginning  of  his 
speech  it  was  as  if  one  were  listening  to  a  brooklet's 
murmuring  or  a  nightingale's  singing.  Every  word 
produced  upon  the  by-standers  the  effect  of  a  meltiiig 
pastel,  and  there  was  not,  in  all  Daghestan,  a  single 
eflFendi  who  understood  the  half  of  what  he  was  saying. 
The  interpreter  of  the  commander  of  Derbend  himself, 
Mirza  Aly,  who  had  swallowed,  digested,  and  thrown 
up  criticisms  upon  all  the  poets  of  Farzistan,  after  hav- 
ing talked  with  him  for  more  than  two  hours,  ended  by 

saying.— 

"  I  can  make  nothing  of  it." 

This,  in  Tartar,  corresponds  to  the  Russian  saying, 
which,  I  think,  is  also  a  little  French:  "I  throw  my 
tongue  to  the  dogs." 

This  time  our  orator  had  taken  the  trouble  to  make 
himself  clear,  so  that  he  had  been  understood  by  every- 
body, as  was  expedient  in  a  conjuncture  of  such  impor- 
tance; hence  his  discourse  had  produced  the  greatest 
effect.  They  gathered  around  him  with  mingled  respect 
and  awe,  and  these  words  were  heard  murmured  on  all 
sides:  "He  is  right,  he  speaks  the  trutli;"  and  eacli 
man,  like  a  bee,  regaled  him  with  the  honey  of  praise. 

Thereupon,  addressing  himself  anew  to  his  auditors, 
with  the  confidence  gained  from  his  first  success,  he 
said, — 

"Listen,  brethren;  we  are  all  guilty  in  the  eyes  of 
Allah,  and  I  stand  quite  the  first;  our  faults  have 
moxinted  to  the  third  heaven,  but,  happily,  there  axe 


A  HOLY  MUSSULMAN.  .    15 

eeven  of  them,  and  four  remain  to  us  in  which  to  seek 
for  God's  mercy.  He  punishes  the  innocent  with  the 
guilty;  yet,  sometimes,  for  a  single  good  man,  he  saves 
a  whole  people.  Well,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  prop- 
osition. Whether  you  will  accept  it  or  not,  I  do  not 
know,  but  here  it  is:  This  is  not  the  first  time  that 
Daghestan  has  prayed  for  water;  well,  our  fathers  and 
grandfathers,  who  were  wiser  than  we,  were  accustomed, 
under  such  circumstances,  to  chose  from  among  the 
young  Mussulmans  a  youth  pure  in  mind  and  body,  and 
send  him,  with  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  all,  up  to 
the  summit  of  the  mountain  nearest  to  Allah,  —  that 
is,  to  the  top  of  Schach  Dagh.  There  he  must  pray 
fervently,  as  one  who  prays  for  a  whole  people;  he  must 
take  some  unsullied  snow  from  the  mountain,  make  a 
ball  of  the  size  of  his  head,  enclose  it  in  a  vase,  and 
then,  without  permitting  it  to  touch  the  earth,  he  must 
bring  it  to  Derbend.  Finally,  at  Derbend  he  must 
turn  the  melted  snow  into  the  sea.  God  is  great.  The 
snow-water  from  Schach  Dagh  will  scarcely  have  mingled 
with  the  waters  of  the  Caspian  sea  before  the  clouds 
are  heaped  above  the  mingled  waters,  and  the  down- 
pouring  rain  refreshes  the  parched  earth. " 

"  It  is  true !  it  is  true !  "  cried  every  voice. 

"  T  have  heard  my  father  tell  about  it,"  said  one. 

**  And  I  my  grandfather,"  said  another. 

"And  I  have  seen  it,"  said,  as  he  advanced,  an  old 
man  with  a  white  beard  whose  extremity  alone  was 
tinged  with  red. 

They  turned  and  listened  to  him. 

"  It  was  my  brother, "  continued  the  old  man ,  "  that 
went  to  get  the  ball  of  snow ;  the  miracle  was  performed ; 
the  waters  of  the  Caspian  sea  became  as  fresh  as  milk; 
the  raindrops  were  as  large  as  silver  roubles;    never, 


16  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

in  the  memory  of  man,  had  there  been  so  fine  a  harvest 
as  that  year's. " 

The  old  man  was  silent. 
Then  there  was  but  one  cry. 

They  must  choose  a  messenger,  must  pick  him  out  that 
very  instant,  must  send  him  to  Schach  Dagh  without 
losing  a  moment. 

"To  Schach  Dagh!  to  Schach  Dagh!"  they  shouted. 
As  by  a  train  of  gimpowder,  the  words  reached  the 
town,  and  all  Derbend  cried  with  one  voice,  like  an 
echo  of  the  mosque, — 

**  To  Schach  Dagh!  to  Schach  Dagh!  " 
The  solution  of  the  great  puzzle  was  therefore  dis- 
covered ;   they  knew  then  at  last  a  sure  way  to  bring 
rain.     Everybody  danced  with  delight  and  screamed  for 
joy. 

The  rich  especially  appeared  enchanted  that  a  means 
had  been  found  that  would  not  cost  a  kopeck. 

There  is  no  one  like  a  rich  man  for  appreciating 
economical  measures. 

The  young  men  said  proudly,  — 
"They  will  choose  from  among  us;  upon  one  of  us 
depends  the  fate  of  Daghestan." 

But  where  was  this  young  man  to  be  found,  pure  of 
body  and  mind?  In  any  nation  it  would  be  difficult; 
but  among  the  Asiatics !  — 

While  reflecting  upon  this  question,  the  inhabitants 
of  Derbend  were  much  embarrassed,  and  the  efferves- 
cence of  their  first  exultation  subsided. 

Where,  indeed,  was  this  innocent  young  man  to  be 
found  who  knew  as  yet  neither  the  savor  of  wine  nor 
the  sweetness  of  a  kiss  ? 

They  began  to  consider  the  matter  seriously,  to  point 
out  this  one,  then  that  one ;  but  the  one  was  too  young, 


A     HOLY  MUSSULMAN.  17 

the  other  too  experienced.  The  first  had  as  yet  no 
moustache;  that  of  the  second  was  too  long.  It  was  a 
dreadful  affair  to  manage  successfully. 

What  we  have  just  said  is  not  entirely  to  the  credit  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Derbend ;  but,  I  repeat,  this  is  history 
that  I  am  writing:  truth,  then,  before  everything. 

If  this  were  a  romance!  Ah!  pardieu!  my  hero 
would  already  be  found. 

"  We  must  take  Sopharkouli,"  said  some;  "he  is  as 
shy  as  a  young  girl." 

So  shy  that,  afraid  of  no  one  knows  what,  he  had 
been  seen,  three  days  before,  to  leap,  at  peep  o'  day, 
from  his  fair  neighbor's  terrace  into  the  street,  enter 
hastily  his  own  house,  and  lock  his  door  with  a  double 
turn. 

"  Or  Mourad  Annet;  he  leads  a  life  as  quiet  and 
solitary  as  a  lily." 

But  it  was  affirmed  that  a  month  before ,  upon  return- 
ing home  with  a  bottle  of  balsam  in  each  hand,  after  a 
visit  to  the  pharmacy,  the  immaculate  lily  had  sung 
songs  that  would  have  made  the  devils  themselves  clap 
their  hands  to  their  ears. 

There  still  remained  Mohammed  Rassoul ;  surely  no 
one  could  speak  evil  of  him.  However,  they  might 
think  it.  He  had  in  his  house  a  charming  Lesghienne 
whom  he  had  bought  from  her  father;  he  had  paid  only 
twenty-nine  roubles,  and  had  since  refused  a  hundred 
for  her.  He  was  a  man  after  all;  a  sword  of  steel  some- 
times rusts. 

They  sought  in  vain ;  too  much  was  said  of  this  one ; 
that  one  said  too  much  of  himself. 

Melancholy  began  to  possess  the  inhabitants  of  Der- 
bend, and  under  such  circumstances  there  is  but  a  step 
from  melancholy  to  despair. 

2 


18  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  And  Iskander  Beg  ?  "  said  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"Iskander  Beg,  surely!  Excellent!  Iskander  Begl 
Perfect!  How  did  we  forget  Iskander  Begt  It  is 
incredible!  incomprehensible!  As  well  overlook  a  rose 
in  a  bouquet,  a  pomegranate  in  a  dish  of  fruit!  Allah! 
Allah!     The  heat  has  shrivelled  up  our  wits." 

"Well,"  said  a  voice,  "Allah  be  praised!  we  have 
found  our  man !     Call  Iskander  Beg !  " 

"Iskander  Beg!  Iskander  Beg,  hallo!  Iskander 
Beg,  hallo!" 

"Now  indeed  are  we  saved,"  was  declared  on  all  sides. 
"This  dear  Iskander  Beg!  this  excellent  Iskander  Beg! 
this  noble  Iskander  Beg!  Why,  he  scarcely  eats!  he 
never  drinks!  He  is  not  hand-in-glove  with  un- 
believers. No  one  remembers  having  ever  met  him  in 
a  garden.  Who  has  over  seen  him  look  at  a  woman  t 
Have  you?  " 

«No." 

"Oryout" 

**  Nor  I,  either.     He  lives  apart  like  the  moon.** 

"Well,  then,  let  us  run  to  Iskander  Beg's  house!" 
cried  several  voices. 

"  But  people  don't  go  to  Iskander  Beg's  like  that." 

«  Why  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  so  dignified  that  a  man  does  not  know 
how  to  approach  him ;  so  haughty  that  one  speaks  only 
when  spoken  to;  so  sparing  of  speech  that  one  would 
say  every  word  cost  him  a  rouble.  Who  ever  saw  him 
laugh,  hey  ? " 

-Not  I.** 

•Nor  I." 

**  Nor  I.  We  must  think  twice  about  it  before  going 
to  his  house." 

"  There  is  but  one  man  thai  might  venture  to  run  the 
riski "  said  a  voice. 


A  HOLY  MUSSULMAN.  19 

And  every  one  answered, — 

"  That  man  is  Mir  Hadji  Festahli  Israael  Ogli." 

It  was  indeed  very  proper  that  the  one  who  had  given 
the  advice  shoukl  finish  what  he  had  begun:  • 

"Go,  Hadji  Festalili,  go,"  cried  the  by-standers, 
"  and  entreat  Iskander  in  the  name  of  us  all !  Get  his 
consent;  you  will  have  no  difficulty,  you  are  so 
eloquent! " 

Hadji  Festahli  was  not  eager  for  the  honor;  but,  in 
the  end,  he  agreed  to  undertake  the  commission.  They, 
gave  him  two  begs  as  escort,  —  the  fat  Hussein  and  the 
lean  Ferzali. 

The  deputation  set  out. 

«  Ah!  "  said  the  crowd,  "  that  is  well." 

"I  am  as  tranquil  now,"  said  one,  "as  if  Iskander 
had  accepted." 

"  If  Festahli  has  a  mind,  he  is  sure  to  succeed,"  said 
another. 

"  He  could  coax  half  a  beard  away  from  a  poor  man." 

"  He  is  cleverer  than  the  devil." 

"  A  very  respectable  man !  " 

"  He  is  a  genius !  " 

"  He  could  make  a  serpent  dance  on  its  tail." 

"  And  what  eloquence !  when  he  speaks,  they  are  not 
mere  words  that  fall  from  his  mouth  —  " 

"  They  are  flowers !  " 

"  The  ears  have  not  even  time  to  gather  them  in." 

"  He  could  so  cheat  you  that  he  could  get  judgment 
against  you  for  having  been  taken  in  by  him." 

"But  we  could  not  have  sent  him  for  the  ball  of 
snow. " 

"  He  is  not  chaste  enough  for  that. " 

**  Nor  sober  enough. " 

"Nor  brave  enough." 


20  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

*  Nor  quite  —  ** 

Permit  ua  to  break  off  from  the  eulogies  of  Mir  Hadji 
Festahli.  We  are  not  of  those  who,  after  bathing  a 
man's  eyes  with  rose-water, — as  the  Tartars  say, — 
give  biro,  while  he  is  drying  them,  a  scorpion  instead 
of  a  cherry  to  eat,  or  an  aconite  blossom  in  place  of  a 
jasmine  to  smell. 


ISKANDER  BEG.  21 


III. 

ISKANDER   BEG. 

TttE  respectable  Hadji  Festahli  proceeded  slowly  as 
he  climbed  the  ladder  of  streets  that  leads  to  the  higher 
part  of  the  city,  in  which  stood  the  house  of  Iskander 
Beg.  From  time  to  time  he  had  to  pass  through  streets 
so  narrow  that  his  two  honorable  companions,  Hussein 
and  Ferzali,  who  walked  beside  him  along  the  streets 
where  they  could  go  three  abreast,  were  then  obliged 
to  fall  back  and  walk  behind  him  in  single  file,  —  a 
humiliation  from  which  they  made  haste  to  escape  as 
soon  as  the  street  became  wide  enough  for  three  abreast. 
Occasionally  one  or  the  other  would  attempt  to  engage 
the  hadji  in  conversation;  but  so  great  was  his  pre- 
occupation, he  did  not  hear  them,  did  not  answer;  and 
he  was  even  so  absent-minded  that  he  failed  to  observe 
that  in  spitting  to  right  and  left,  he  sometimes  spat 
upon  the  black  beard  of  Hussein,  sometimes  upon  the 
red  beard  of  Ferzali. 

His  inattention  continued  so  long  that  his  two  com- 
panions began  to  be  angry. 

"This  is  a  singular  man!"  said  Hussein;  "he  is 
spoken  to,  and,  instead  of  replying,  he  spits." 

"  May  it  fall  into  his  throat!  "  cried  Ferzali,  wiping 
his  beard.  "The  proverb  says  truly,  Hussein:  *  If  the 
master  is  at  home,  it  is  sufficient  to  speak  his  name, 
and  the  door  will  be  opened  to  you ;  but  if  he  is  not 
there,   you   will   get   nothing,   even   by  breaking  in.' 


2S  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Useless  to  speak  any  more  to  Mir  Hadji  Festahli;  his 
mind  is  elsewhere,  the  house  is  empty." 

Ferzali  a  la  harhe  rose,  as  they  called  him  in  Der- 
bend,  because,  instead  of  employing  tho  two  substances 
in  use  among  the  Tartars  for  coloring  the  beard,  —  sub- 
stances, the  first  of  which  begins  by  tinting  the  beard 
red,  and  the  second  finishes  by  dyeing  it  black,  — 
Ferzali,  who  used  only  the  first,  and  who,  consequently, 
kept  his  beard  the  color  of  the  first  streak  of  dawn  as 
it  appears  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon  —  Ferzali  was 
deceived.  The  house  was  not  empty;  it  was,  on  the 
contrary,  so  full  of  its  own  occupants,  and  their  strife 
was  creating  such  an  uproar,  that,  not  being  able  to 
understand  even  the  voice  of  his  owh  mind,  Hadji 
Festahli  could  not  understand  other  people's  voices. 

This  was  what  his  thouglits  were  urging:  "Have  a 
care,  Festahli!  every  step  that  you  take  toward  the 
dwelling  of  Iskander  Beg  brings  you  nearer  to  danger. 
Keraember  how  seriously  you  have  ofiended  him.  Be- 
ware, Hadji  Festahli,  beware!  " 

What,  then,  had  passed  between  Hadji  Festahli  and 
Iskander  Begt 

We  are  about  to  relate  it. 

Iskander  was  bom  at  Derbend,  when  the  city  was 
already  occupied  by  the  Kussians,  —  this  occupation 
dates  from  1795;  but  his  father  had  been  the  intimate 
friend  of  the  last  khan,  who  had  been  driven  from  his 
provinces  by  Catherine's  army.  In  1826,  he  died  of 
chagrin  because  the  Persians,  whom  he  was  expecting 
at  Derbend,  had  been  routed  at  Kouba,  to  which  point 
they  had  advanced;  but,  when  dying,  he  had  charged 
his  son,  then  fifteen  years  of  age,  never  to  serve  the 
Russians,  and  never  to  make  friends  with  the  inhabi* 
tants  of  Derl)end,  who  had  rei)elled  the  Persians. 


I^KANDER  BEG.  23 

He  was  dead;  but  his  convictions,  his  habits,  his 
opinions,  all  survived  in  his  son,  whose  ideas,  thoughts, 
and  desires  were  all  opposed  to  the  desires,  thoughts, 
and  ideas  of  the  inhabitants  of  Derbend.  A  handful  of 
rice,  a  glass  of  water,  a  little  light,  much  air,  were  all 
of  which  the  young  Iskander  Beg  had  need. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  entire  world  was  awakening 
to  the  breath  of  love  and  poetry,  he  would  saddle  his 
good  Karabach  horse,  swing  from  his  shoulder  the  fine 
gun  from  Hadji  Moustaff,  the  most  celebrated  gunsmith 
in  Daghestan,  and,  with  his  bold  yellow  falcon  perched 
upon  his  thumb,  he  would  hunt  the  pheasant  over 
mountain  and  valley  until  he  was  ready  to  drop  with 
fatigue ,  if  you  grant  there  can  be  fatigue  in  the  pursuit 
of  a  passion.  Then  he  would  dismount  from  his  horse, 
which  he  allowed  to  wander  at  will,  lie  down  in  the 
shade  of  some  great  tree  beside  a  stream,  and  sleep 
tranquilly  to  its  gentle  sound.  Whether  its  sweet 
harmony  caused  him  to  dream,  whether  his  dreams  were 
prosaic,  whether  he  was  poet  or  philosopher,  rhymer  or 
reasoner,  I  know  not.  This  I  do  know,  —  he  lived 
tingling  with  the  thrill  of  life.  What  more  would  you 
have? 

In  winter,  when  the  snow,  driven  by  the  wind,  beat 
against  his  windows,  he  loved  to  listen  to  the  howling 
of  the  storm  whirling  over  his  chimney;  stretched  upon 
his  rug,  his  eyes  would  follow  the  play  of  the  embers 
upon  his  hearth,  or  the  curling  smoke  from  his  pipe. 

Did  he  see  the  figure  of  the  devil  in  the  embers? 
Did  he  see  angels'  wings  in  the  smoke  from  his  pipe  ? 
He  said  so,  himself.  The  fact  is,  he  dwelt  in  a  name- 
less realm,  and  in  this  realm,  of  which  he  was  king,  he 
rummaged  boxes  of  emeralds,  pearls,  and  diamonds;  he 
carried  off  women  beside  whom  the  houris,  green,  yellow* 


S4  THH  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

and  blue,  promised  by  >[ahomet  to  the  faithful,  were 
but  Kalmucks  or  Samoyedes;  he  cast  himself  into  un- 
heard of  perils;  he  fought  gnomes,  giants,  enchanters, 
and  fell  asleep  amidst  the  creatures  of  his  fancy,  and 
awoke  in  the  morning,  the  ideal  so  confused  with  the 
real  that  he  did  not  know  whether  he  had  been  awake 
or  dreaming. 

And  sometimes  he  would  summon  his  Lesghian  noukar 
and  have  him  sing.  The  Lesghian  sang  of  the  freedom 
of  his  brothers  upon  their  mountains,  their  courage  in 
combat  and  the  chase;  and  then  the  Asiatic  heart  of 
Iskander  would  begin  to  swell.  He  would  take  his 
dagger  and  feel 'its  point;  he  would  sharpen  the  blade 
of  his  shaska,  and  mutter,  — 

«  Shall  I,  then,  never  fight  t " 

His  wish  was  not  long  in  being  realized;  Kasi 
Mullah  attacked  Derbend.  It  was  a  fine  opportunity 
for  brave  men  to  test  their  mettle. 

Iskander  Beg  did  not  overlook  it. 

He  sallied  forth  with  the  Tartars,  mounted  on  his 
fine  Karabach  charger,  which  knew  neither  rocks  nor 
abysses;  and  he  was  always  ut  the  front.  To  join  him, 
yes,  that  might  be  possible;  but  to  pass  him,  never. 
He  did  not  run,  he  flew  like  the  eagle,  despatching 
death  far  end  near,  first  with  his  gun,  then,  the  dis- 
charged gun  swung  from  his  shouldur,  witli  kandjiar  on 
high,  hurling  himself  with  savage  shouts  upon  the 
enemy. 

One  day  there  had  been  an  engagement  near  Kouba, 
and  having  dislodged  the  Russians  from  a  vineyard,  the 
Tartars  began,  notwithistimding  their  success,  to  riot, 
according  to  the  Asiatic  custom,  with  two  heads  lopped 
off  and  fastened  to  n  standard  taken  from  the  enemy. 
The  Russian  truops  had  already  re-entered  the  town, 


ISKANDER  BEG.  25 

but  a  young  Russian  officer  and  a  few  Tartars,  among 
whom  we  find  Iskander  Beg,  had  halted  near  the  foun- 
tain. Bullets  and  balls  were  whistling  around  them; 
the  Russian  officer  was  at  the  time  drinking  of  the  pure, 
limpid  water.  Lifting  his  head,  he  saw  before  him 
Iskander  Beg  in  simple  close  tunic  of  white  satin ;  his 
rolled-up  sleeves  revealed  hands  and  arms  reddened  with 
blood  to  the  elbow. 

He  was  leaning  upon  his  gun,  his  lips  curled  in 
scorn,  his  eyes  flashing  through  tears,  blazing  with 
wrath. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Iskander  ? "  demanded  the 
Russian.  "  It  strikes  me  that  you  have  acquitted  your- 
self well  of  your  share  of  the  work,  and  have  nothing  to 
regret. " 

"  Hearts  of  hares !  "  he  muttered.  **  They  march 
regularly  enough  when  advancing,  but  in  retreat,  they 
are  wild  goats." 

"  Well,  after  all,"  said  the  yoimg  Russian,  "  the  day 
seems  to  be  ours." 

"  Of  course  it  is  ours ;  but  we  have  left  poor  Ishmael 
over  there. " 

"Ishmael?"  demanded  the  officer.  "Isn't  that  the 
handsome  lad  that  came  to  me  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fight  and  begged  me  to  give  him  some  cartridges  1  " 

"  Yes ;  he  was  the  only  one  I  loved  in  all  Derbend ; 
an  angelic  soul.     He  is  lost!  " 

And  he  wiped  away  a  single  tear  that  trembled  upon 
his  eyelid  and  could  not  decide  to  fall. 

"  Is  he  captured  ? "  inquired  the  Russian. 

"  He  is  dead !  "  answered  Iskander.  "  Braver  than  a 
man,  he  had  all  the  imprudence  of  a  child.  He  wanted 
to  pick  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  he  cleared  the  space 
separating  him  from  tlie  vines.     He  lost  his  head  by 


26  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

it.  Before  my  eyes,  the  Lesghians  cut  his  throat.  I 
could  not  help  him ;  there  were  ten  men  to  deal  with. 
I  killed  three  of  them,  that  was  all  I  could  do.  Ju.st 
now  they  are  retreating;  they  are  insulting  his  body, 
the  wretches!  Come,"  cried  he,  turning  to  three  or 
four  Tartars  who  stood  listening,  "  who  of  you  still  has 
some  love,  fidelity,  and  courage  in  his  soul  ?  Let  him 
return  with  me  to  rescue  the  body  of  a  comrade. " 

"  I  will  go  with  you  myself, "  announced  the  Russian 
officer. 

"  Let  us  go,**  said  two  of  the  Tartars  also. 

And  they  four  rushed  upon  the  band  of  Lesghians, 
who,  not  expecting  this  sudden  attack,  and  believing 
that  these  four  men  were  followed  by  a  much  greater 
number,  retreated  before  them ;  and  they  advanced  to  the 
boy's  body,  took  it  up,  and  bore  it  back  to  the  tovra. 

At  her  gate,  tlie  mother  was  waiting.  She  threw 
herself  upon  the  decapitated  body  with  heart-rending 
shrieks  and  tears. 

Iskander  gazed  at  her,  his  eyebrows  drawn  together; 
and  now  it  was  not  a  single  tear  that  trembled  alone 
U{)on  his  eyelid,  —  there  were  streams  of  them  coursing 
down  his  cheeks  like  waters  from  a  fountain. 

A  mother's  despair  melted  this  lion's  heart. 

"  How  unfortunate  that  you  are  not  a  Russian  I  **  said 
the  officer,  extending  his  hand. 

"How  fortunate  that  you  are  not  a  Tartar!  "  replied 
Iskander,  grasping  the  hand. 

One  thing  is  well  known :  the  moustache,  which  is 
an  indication  of  approaching  maturity,  is  likewise  the 
herald  of  love. 

Iskander  had  not  escaped  the  universal  law.  Every 
liair  of  his  moustache  had  sprouted  upon  his  lip  at  the 
very  instant  that  a  desire  had  sprung  up  in  his  heart, 


ISKANDER  BEG.  27 

—  desires  vague  as  yet,  inexplicable  to  himself,  but, 
like  orange  boughs,  bearing  on  the  same  branch  both 
fruit  and  flowers.  Why  do  women  like  the  moustaclie 
so  much?  Because,  the  symbol  of  love,  it  springs  from 
the  same  source,  and  crisps  in  the  warmth  of  desire. 
What  seeks  the  youth  with  head  erect,  humid  eye,  smil- 
ing face,  and  ruby  lip  under  the  budding  moustache  1 

Neither  honors  nor  fortune,  — only  a  kiss. 

A  virgin  moustache  is  a  bridge  thrown  across  two 
loving  mouths ;  a  moustache  — 

Let  us  leave  the  moustaches  here,  they  are  carrying 
us  too  far;  then,  too,  why,  with  gray  moustache,  talk 
of  black  or  blonde  1 

Besides,  moustaches,  of  whatever  color,  lead  me  from 
my  subject. 

I  return,  then. 

In  the  month  of  the  preceding  April,  Iskander  had, 
according  to  his  custom,  set  out  for  the  chase.  The 
day  was  beautiful ;  it  was  a  true  spring  holiday ;  it  was 
warm  without  heat,  fresh  without  humidity.  Iskander 
plunged  into  the  midst  of  an  ocean  of  verdure  and 
flowers.  He  had  now,  for  several  hours,  been  going 
from  gorge  to  gorge,  from  mountain  to  mountain;  he 
wanted  something,  he  knew  not  what.  For  the  first 
time  the  air  seemed  difficult  to  breathe,  for  the  first 
time,  his  heart  beat  without  cause;  his  unquiet  breast 
fluttered  like  a  woman's  veil. 

And,  speaking  of  veils,  let  us  note  a  fact. 

When  Iskander  formerly  passed  through  the  streets 
of  Derbend,  he  would  never  have  cast  a  look  toward  a 
woman,  had  she  been  unveiled  to  her  girdle;  while,  on 
the  contrary,  from  the  very  day  on  which  he  was  able 
to  twist  the  ends  of  his  little  black  moustache  between 
his  fingers,  every  nose-tip,  every  lip,  every  brown  eye 


28  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

or  blue  that  lie  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  through  a  peep 
hole  in  a  veil,  turned  him  hot  and  cold  at  once.  It  ia 
a  positive  fact  that  he  had  never  studied  anatomy ;  well, 
in  spite  of  Iiis  iguorauco,  he  could  picture  to  himself  a 
woman  from  the  toe  of  her  slipper  to  the  top  of  her 
veil,  not  only  witliout  error  but  even  without  oversight, 
merely  from  catching  sight  of  a  little  silk-stockinged 
foot  in  a  velvet  slipper  under  a  kanaos  trouser  em- 
broidered with  gold  or  silver. 

I  will  not  tell  you  whether,  on  this  occasion,  his 
hunt  was  successful;  I  will  say  only  that  the  hunter 
was  very  distrait,  —  so  distrait  that,  instead  of  seeking 
the  lonely  haunts  where  pheasant  and  partridge  are  wont 
to  hide,  he  turned  his  horse  toward  two  or  three  hamlets 
where  he  had  absolutely  no  business. 

But  the  day  was  fine,  and,  whetlier  standing  at  their 
gates,  or  sitting  on  the  house-tops,  he  hoped  to  see  one 
of  those  pretty  little  contemporaneous  animals  that  he 
had  reconstructed  with  as  much  precision  as  the  learned 
Cuvier  had  reconstructed  a  mastodon,  an  ichtliyosaurus, 
a  pterodactyl,  or  any  other  antediluvian  monster. 

Unfortunately,  he  had  to  be  content  with  the  speci< 
mens  already  known.  Women  were  at  their  gates, 
women  were  on  the  terraces;  but  the  Mohammedan 
women,  who  sometimes  put  aside  their  veils  for  un- 
Wlievers,  never  lift  them  for  their  compatriots.  The 
result  was  that  the  desires  of  Iskander  Beg,  not  finding 
a  face  upon  which  to  fix  themselves,  were  scattered  to 
the  winds. 

The  young  man  became  sad,  drew  a  profound  sigh, 
threw  the  bridle  on  his  horse's  neck,  and  left  him  master 
to  go  what  way  he  would. 

This  is  what  travellers  and  lovers  ought  always  to  do 
when  they  have  an  intelligent  horse. 


ISKANDER  BEG.  29 

The  horse  knew  a  delightful  road  leading  home;  on 
this  road,  under  some  tall  plane-trees,  was  a  spring 
forming  a  pool,  at  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  slaking 
his  thirst:  he  took  this  route. 

Iskander  Beg  paid  no  attention  as  to  what  path  his 
horse  was  taking. 

Little  it  mattered  to  him;  he  was  riding  in  a  dream. 

And  along  with  him,  on  both  sides  of  the  road, 
stalked  all  sorts  of  phantoms;  these  were  women,  all 
veiled  it  is  true,  but  their  veils  were  so  carelessly  worn 
that  not  one  of  them  prevented  his  seeing  what  should 
have  been  unseen. 

Suddenly  Iskander  reined  in  his  horse;  his  vision 
seemed  turned  into  reality. 

At  the  edge  of  the  spring  was  hidden  a  girl  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years,  more  beautiful  than  he  had  ever 
dreamed  a  woman  could  be.  With  the  pure  water  she 
was  cooling  her  beautiful  face,  which  the  April  sun  had 
tinted  like  a  rose;  then  she  gazed  at  herself  in  the 
shimmering  mirror,  smiled,  and  took  so  much  pleasure 
in  seeing  herself  smile,  that  she  saw  nothing  else,  listen- 
ing the  while  to  the  birds  that  sang  above  her  head,  and 
hearing  only  their  songs,  which  seemed  to  say:  "  Gaze 
into  the  fountain,  beautiful  child!  Never  was  flower  so 
fresh  as  thou  mirrored  there  before ;  never  will  flower 
so  fresh  as  thou  be  mirrored  after  thee !  " 

They  doubtless  said  it  to  her  in  verse;  but  I  am 
obliged  to  tell  it  in  prose,  not  knowing  the  rules  of 
poetry  in  bird  language. 

And  they  were  right,  the  feathered  flatterers ;  it  was 
hard  to  imagine  flower  fresher,  purer,  more  beautiful 
than  this  one  which  appeared  to  have  sprung  up  from 
the  edge  of  the  pool  in  which  it  was  reflected. 

But  it  was  one  of  those  human  blossoms  that  Granville 


30  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

knows  8o  well  how  to  paint,  —  with  black  locks,  eyes 
like  stars,  tcoth  like  pearls,  cheeks  like  peaches;  the 
whole  enveloped,  not  by  one  of  those  thick,  ill-advised 
veils  that  conceal  what  they  cover,  but  by  a  gauze  so 
fine,  so  silky,  so  transparent,  that  it  seemed  woven  from 
the  filmy  beams  which  Summer  shakes  from  her  distaff 
when  Autumn  comes. 

Then  if  the  imprudent  eye  descended  in  a  straight 
line  from  her  face,  that  was  indeed  another  matter. 
After  a  neck,  which  might  have  served  as  a  model  for 
the  Tower  of  Ivory  of  Scripture,  came  — 

Undoubtedly  what  came  after  and  was  half  hid<len  by 
a  chemise  of  white  manfe,  embroidered  with  blue,  and 
an  arknhouke  of  cherry  satin,  was  very  beautiful,  since 
poor  Iskander  could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of 
delight. 

The  cry  had  no  sooner  escaped  him  than  Iskander 
wished  that  he  had  been  born  dumb;  he  had  driven 
himself  out  of  Paradise. 

The  girl  had  heard  the  exclamation;  she  turned 
around  and  uttered  a  cry  on  her  part;  over  her  trans- 
parent veil  she  threw  a  thick  one,  and  ran,  or,  rather, 
flew  away,  twice  gasping  the  name  of  Iskander  Beg. 

He,  stricken  dumb  when  it  was  too  late,  motionless 
when  perhaps  he  would  have  run,  his  arms  extended, 
as  if  to  stay  the  reality  which,  in  fleeing,  again  melted 
into  a  vision,  stoo^l  breathless  with  staring  eyes,  like 
Apollo  watching  the  flight  of  Daphne. 

But  Apollo  very  quickly  darted  forth  upon  the  track 
of  the  beautiful  nymph,  while  Iskander  Beg  did  not 
budge  so  long  as  he  was  able  to  catch  a  glimpse  through 
the  thicket  of  a  hand's  breadth  of  that  white  veil. 

And  when  it  was  lost  to  view  he  became  much  agi- 
tated, for  he  felt  then  as  if  life,  a  moment  suspended, 


ISKANDER  BEG.  31 

was  returning  in  waves  upon  him,  rudely  and  noisily 
invading  his  heart. 

"  Allah !  "  murmured  he,  "  what  will  they  say  of  her 
and  of  me  if  any  one  has  seen  us  ?  —  How  beautiful  she 
is !  —  She  will  be  scolded  by  her  parents.  —  What  lovely 
black  eyes!  —  They  will  think  that  Ave  had  planned  a 
rendezvous !  —  What  lips !  —  She  knows  my  name ;  twice 
as  she  ran  she  cried:  '  Iskander!  Iskander! '  " 

And  he  again  sank  into  his  revery,  if  a  state  can  be 
called  a  revery  in  which  the  blood  is  boiling,  while 
harps  are  ringing  in  one's  ears,  and  when  all  the  stars 
of  heaven  are  seen  in  broad  daylight. 

Most  certainly  would  night  have  surprised  Iskander 
on  the  borders  of  the  pool,  into  whose  waters  his  heart 
seemed  to  have  fallen,  had  not  the  horse,  feeling  his 
bridle,  tightened  for  an  instant,  gently  relax,  continued 
on  his  way  without  consulting  his  rider. 

Iskander  reached  home  madly  in  love. 

We  are  sorry  indeed  not  to  have  found  either  time  or 
space  in  this  chapter  to  tell  whj'  Iskander  bore  malice 
to  Mir  Hadji  Festahli;  but  we  promise  our  readers, 
positively,  to  tell  them  in  the  following  chapter. 


32  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


IV. 


Ilf     WHICH     I8KANDER     LEARNS     THE     ITAMB    OF     HEB 

WHO    KNOWS    UI8. 

A.ND  yet  Iskander  recalled  his  father's  words.  His 
father  had  been  wont  to  say:  "  The  loveliest  rose  lasts 
but  a  day,  the  smallest  tliorn  endures  a  lifetime.  Caress 
Women,  but  do  not  love  them  if  you  would  not  become 
their  slave.  Love  is  sweet  only  in  song;  but  in  reality 
its  beginning  is  fear;  its  middle,  sin;  and  its  end, 
repentance. " 

And  to  these  three  sentiments  he  added  a  fourth, 
their  fitting  complement:  "  Look  not  upon  the  wives  of 
other  men,  and  listen  not  to  your  own." 

Let  us  hasten  to  add,  to  Iskander's  credit,  that  he 
forgot  all  these  precepts  in  less  than  five  minutes. 

The  young  Tartar  loved  and  was  afraid.  The  first 
part  of  his  father's  premonition,  "The  beginning  of 
love  is  fear,"  was  then  fulfilled  in  him. 

Eight  days  before,  poor  Iskander  had  slept  so  tran- 
quilly, the  night  had  seemed  so  short  and  refreshing. 

Now  he  tossed  about  upon  his  mattress;  he  bit  his 
pillow;  his  silk  coverlet  stifled  him. 

But  who  was  she  ? 

At  this  question,  which  ho  had  put  to  himself  for  the 
tenth  time,  Iskander  leap<;d  from  his  bed  to  his  feet. 

She!  what  a  villanou.s  word! 

Love  tolerates  no  pronouns,  and  especially  love  in 
Daghestan. 


ISKANDER  LEARNS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.       33 

Until  he  knew  her  true  name,  Iskander  would  give 
her  a  fictitious  one. 

"I  must  know  the  name  of  my  —  Leila,"  said  he, 
thrusting  his  kandjiar  into  his  girdle;  "I  shall  die, 
perhaps,  but  I  will  know  her  name." 

A  moment  later  he  was  in  the  street. 

Probably  the  devil  left  one  of  his  serpents  at  Derbend : 
to  some  he  takes  the  form  of  ambition,  —  how  many 
celebrated  men  have  disputed  the  possession  of  Derbend! 
to  others  he  goes  in  the  guise  of  love,  —  how  many 
young  people  have  lost  their  wits  at  Derbend! 

The  latter  serpent,  decidedly,  had  bitten  Iskander 
Beg. 

He  wandered  up  and  down  the  streets,  looked  through 
every  gate,  scanned  every  wall  and  every  veil. 

It  was  all  in  vain. 

Whom  could  he  ask  for  her  name?  Who  would 
point  out  her  house? 

His  heart's  eagerness  urged  him  forward. 

"Go!"  it  bade  him. 

Where  ?     He  did  not  know. 

He  joined  the  crowd;  the  crowd  conducted  him  to 
the  market-place. 

If  he  had  wished  to  learn  the  price  of  meat,  he  was 
in  a  fair  way ;  but  the  name  of  his  beloved ?     No! 

He  approached  an  Armenian.  The  Armenians  know 
everybody,  dealing  in  everything. 

This  one  was  selling  fish. 

"Buy  a  fine  chamaia,  Iskander  Beg,"  said  the 
Armenian. 

The  young  man  turned  away  in  disgust. 

At  last  he  approached  the  shop  of  a  goldsmith,  a 
skilful  enameller. 

"  God  save  you !  "  said  he  to  the  Tartar. 
3 


34  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"May  Allah  grant  you  happiness!"  responded  the 
goldsmith,  without  raising  his  eyes  from  a  turquoise 
that  he  was  mounting  in  a  ring. 

On  the  counter  behind  which  the  goldsmith  was 
working  stood  a  copper  sebilla,  filled  with  diiferent 
objects  more  or  less  precious. 

Iskander  Beg  uttered  a  cry. 

He  had  just  recognized  an  earring  which  he  was 
certain  of  having  seen,  the  day  before,  swinging  in  the 
ear  of  his  imknown. 

His  heart  gave  a  leap;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
just  learned  the  first  letter  of  her  name. 

It  was  as  if  he  saw  her  pretty  little  hand  with  the 
pink  nails  beckoning  to  him. 

He  dared  not  speak  a  word.  He  hesitated  to  put  a 
question;  he  did  not  know  what  to  say;  his  voice 
trembled,  his  thoughts  wore  in  a  tumult. 

Suddenly  a  light  flashed  across  liis  brain. 

He  had  hit  upon  a  truly  military  ruse,  —  one  of  those 
that  capture  cities. 

He  emptied  the  cup  into  his  hand,  as  if  to  look  at 
the  jewels.  The  goldsmith,  who  had  recognized  him, 
allowed  him  to  do  so. 

He  adroitly  withdrew  the  earring  from  the  heap 
of  jewels,  slipped  it  into  his  pocket,  and  suddenly 
ejaculated, — 

"There I  I  have  dropped  an  earring  1  " 

And  he  replaced  the  other  jewels  in  the  cup. 

•'What  earring?  "  demanded  the  merchant. 

"The  one  with  little  bells  on  it." 

"  Far  Allah!  pick  it  up  quickly,  Iskander j  I  would 
not  have  that  lost  for  five  hundred  roubles." 

"  Oh  I  it  is  not  lost,"  said  Iskander. 

Then,  after  a  {tause,  he  said,  — 


ISKANDER  LEARNS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.       35 

"It  is  very  strange,  though,  that  I  do  not  see  it 
anywhere." 

"  One  loses  sight  of  a  thing  as  it  falls, "  said  the 
merchant,  laying  down  the  ring  upon  which  he  was 
working ;  and  rising,  he  looked  under  his  bench  as  h© 
raised  his  spectacles. 

Iskander  stepped  about  feigning  to  search. 

"  I  do  not  find  it,"  said  he. 

Then,  a  moment  later,  he  added, — 

**  It  is  certainly  lost. " 

This  time  the  goldsmith  took  his  spectacles  from  his 
forehead  and  laid  them  on  his  table. 

"  Allah !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  what  have  you  done, 
Iskander  Beg  ? " 

"  I  have  lost  an  earring,  that  is  all. " 

"  But  you  don't  know  what  will  happen  to  me.  That 
old  rascal  of  a  Hadji  Festahli  is  capable  of  bringing  suit 
against  me.     An  earring  of  Baku  enamel !  " 

"  On  my  soul,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Djaffar.  Do 
you  expect  me  to  believe  that  a  man  as  serious  as  Hadji 
Festahli,  a  descendant  of  Mahomet,  a  saint,  wears 
earrings  1 " 

"  And  who  says  that  he  wears  earrings  ?  " 

"  He  has  neither  wife  nor  daughter,  that  I  know  of 
at  least. " 

"  He  is  too  stingy  for  that,  the  old  miser!  But  it  is 
as  much  as  ten  years  now  since  his  brother  Shafy  fled 
into  Persia,  leaving  him  his  wife  and  daughter.  The 
little  girl  was  only  six  years  old  then,  she  is  sixteen 
now. " 

"  It  must  be  she !  it  must  be  she !  "  murmured 
Iskander  under  his  breath. 

Then  he  asked  aloud,  — 

"  What  is  she  called  —  this  niece  ? " 


36  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"Kassime,"  replied  the  goldsmith. 

*  Kassime,  Kassimo,"  repeated  Iskander  to  himself. 

And  the  name  tjeoined  to  him  far  prettier  than  Leila, 
which  he  discarded  as  one  throws  away  a  lemon  from 
which  he  has  squeezed  all  the  juice. 

"  And  since  her  father's  departure, "  he  added  aloud, 
"  I  presume  that  the  little  one  has  grown.** 

"  You  know  our  country,  Iskander:  the  child  of  one 
year  looks  as  though  it  were  two;  a  girl  of  five  appears 
to  be  ten.  Our  young  girls  are  like  the  grape -cuttings 
which  are  scarcely  planted  before  the  grapes  are  ripe ; 
I  have  never  seen  her,  but  her  uncle  says  that  she  is  the 
prettiest  girl  in  Derbend." 

Iskander  Beg  tossed  the  earring  into  the  goldsmith's 
liand  and  darted  off  like  an  arrow.  He  knew  all  that 
lie  wished  to  know,  —  the  name  and  dwelling  of  his 
lady  fair. 

He  ran  straight  to  the  house  of  Hadji  Festahli.  He 
did  not  hope  to  see  Kassime,  but  i)erhaps  he  should 
hear  her  voice;  then,  who  knows?  she  might  be  going 
out  with  her  mother,  perhaps,  and,  whether  he  saw  her 
or  not,  she  would  see  him.  She  would  certainly  suspect 
that  he  was  not  there  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  uncle. 

But,  as  usual,  old  Hadji  Festahli 's  house  was  shut 
up ;  Iskander  foresaw  one  drawback,  —  it  was,  in  all 
Derbend,  the  most  difficult  house  to  enter. 

He  heard,  not  Kassime's  voice,  but  a  dog's  bark,  and 
it  was  redoubled  every  time  that  he  drew  near  the  gate. 
Finally,  the  gate  opened. 

But  an  abominable  old  hag  emerged,  broom  in  hand. 

She  was  some  old  witch,  doubtless,  going  to  lier  vigil. 

She  did  not  even  have  the  trouble  of  shutting  the 
gate  behind  her;  it  closed  quite  of  itself,  one  would 
have  thought  had  he  not  heard  a  hand  push  the  bolts. 


ISKANDER  LEAIINS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.       37 

Iskander  liad  resolved  to  remain  there  until  evening, 
until  the  next  morning,  until  Kassime  came  out.  But 
his  presence  could  not  fail  to  be  remarked,  and  his 
presence  would  announce  openly  to  Hadji  Festahli:  "I 
love  your  niece ;  hide  her  more  carefully  than  ever. " 

He  returned  home,  and  threw  himself  down  upon  a 
rug. 

There,  as  he  was  no  longer  afraid  of  being  seen  or 
even  heard,  he  threshed  about,  he  roared,  he  bellowed. 

Iskander  loved  after  the  manner  of  lions. 

A  good  Mussulman,  a  true  believer,  has  no  concep- 
tion of  what  we  call  perfect  love ;  Iskander  was  purely 
enraged,  he  wanted  Kassime  that  very  moment,  without 
delay,  instantly. 

He  was  one  of  the  readers  that  skip  the  preface  of  a 
book  and  proceed  immediately  to  the  first  chapter. 

Terrible  people  for  authors  and  uncles ! 

But  Iskander  very  soon  reached  the  conclusion  that 
he  might  vainly  roll  on  his  rug  all  day  long,  roar  a 
whole  week,  howl  for  a  month,  and  it  would  not  bring 
him  a  hair's  breadth  nearer  to  Kassime. 

He  must  bestir  himself,  then. 

Finally,  by  dint  of  saying  over  to  himself :  "  Kassime's 
uncle,"  he  was  reminded  that,  if  he  himself  had  no 
uncle,  he  had  an  aunt. 

An  aunt!  Why  were  aunts  made,  if  it  were  not  to' 
take  charge  of  their  nephew's  love  affairs  1 " 

That  is  all  aunts  are  good  for. 

You  do  not  know  of  an  aunt  who  ever  served  any 
other  purpose ;  neither  do  I. 

He  went  out.  and  purchased  some  silk  stuff  for  a 
dress;  then  he  ran  to  his  aunt's  house. 

The  aunt  took  the  dress,  listened  to  the  whole  story 
of  her  nephew's  love  affair,  and  as  an  aunt,  however  old 


38  THE  BALL  OF  SNQW. 

she  may  be,  remembers  the  days  when  she  was  young, 
Iskantler's  aunt,  sending  a  sigh  after  her  own  lost  youth, 
promised  hira  to  do  all  in  her  power  to  bring  about  an 
interview. 

*  Come  to  my  house  to-morrow,  at  noon,  my  child," 
she  said;  "I  will  send  for  Kassirao,  under  pretext  of 
darkening  her  eyes  with  kohl.  I  will  hide  you  behind 
this  curtain,  you  rascal!  But  be  discreet.  Do  not 
move,  do  not  breathe,  and,  above  all,  beware  of  whis- 
pering a  word  to  any  one  of  what  I  am  doing  for  you." 

As  one  can  well  understand,  Iskandcr  returned  home 
in  high  spirits. 

He  went  to  bed  at  sunset,  hoping  to  sleep,  and  that 
the  time  would  pass  swiftly  while  he  slept. 

Sleep  had  been  good  once  upon  a  time. 

He  fell  asleep  at  one  o'clock,  and  awoke  at  two. 

By  seven  in  the  morning  he  was  at  his  aunt's  house, 
insisting  that  it  was  almost  noon. 

At  every  sound  made  at  the  gate  he  ran  and  hid 
behind  the  curtain. 

Then  he  would  resume  his  position  beside  his  aunt, 
shaking  his  head  and  saying,  — 

"  She  will  not  come. " 

Whereupon,  falling  into  a  rage,  and  stamping  his 
foot,   he  would  exclaim,  — 

"Aht  if  she  does  not  come  I  will  set  fire  to  her 
uncle's  house;  she  will  have  to  come  out  so  as  not  to 
be  burned;  then  I  will  seize  her,  I  will  put  her  on  my 
Karabach  and  run  away  with  her." 

And  each  time  his  aunt  would  soothe  him,  saying,  — 

"  That  could  not  have  been  she :  it  is  only  nine  o'clock 
—  it  is  only  ten  —  it  is  only  eleven." 

But  at  noon  the  aunt  exclaimed, — 

"Ah!  there  she  comes  this  time." 


ISKANDER  LEARNS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.        39 

Iskander,  like  his  aunt,  had  heard  the  heels  of  little 
Turkish  slippers  pattering  on  the  paved  court,  and  he 
had  sprung  hehind  his  curtain. 

It  was  indeed  she,  with  her  friend  Kitchina,  —  hlue- 
eyed  Kitchina,  as  they  called  her. 

The  maidens  took  off  their  slippers  at  the  threshold 
of  the  door  and  came  in,  seating  themselves  beside  the 
old  aunt. 

The  two  veils  fell  to  the  floor.  The  curtain  was 
agitated;  happily,  neither  of  the  girls  looked  that  way. 

No;  they  were  watching  the  old  aunt,  who  was  stir- 
ring with  a  small  ivory  stick  the  kohl  at  the  bottom  of 
a  little  silver  jar. 

Kassime  knelt  before  the  good  woman,  who  first 
pencilled  her  eyebrows,  then  the  under-lids;  but  when 
Kassime,  for  the  latter  operation,  raised  her  beautiful 
eyes,  Iskander  felt  as  if  his  heart  were  pierced  by  a 
bullet. 

The  old  woman  herself  was  struck  with  their  wonder- 
ful beauty,  and  in  her  admiration  for  the  girl,  she  said, 
embracing  her,  — 

"  How  soon,  my  pretty  Kassime,  shall  I  be  painting 
you  in  the  bath  amid  the  songs  of  your  friends  ?  You 
have  such  beautiful  eyes  that  I  could  wish  them  each 
morning  to  awake  tearless  and  to  be  sealed  every  night 
by  a  kiss." 

Kassime  sighed,  and  aflfectionately  kissed  the  old 
woman. 

Iskander  heard  the  sigh  and  felt  the  warmth  of  the 
kiss. 

"  My  uncle  Festahli  says  that  I  am  too  young, " 
answered  Kassime,  sadly. 

"  And  what  says  your  heart  ? "  demanded  the  old 
lady. 


40  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Instead  of  replying,  Kassime  took  down  the  tarn* 
bourine  hanging  on  the  wall,  and  sang:  — 

"  Fair  dawn,  ob,  why  did  I  so  early  feel 
The  dewy  coolneas  of  thy  wings  ? 
Fair  youth,  oh,  why  this  eve  did  thine  eyes  steal 
Into  my  heart  their  fiery  stings  ? 

"  Oh,  why,  though  I  have  seen  in  cloudless  sky 
Enthroneil  the  god-like  shining  star, — 
Oh,  why,  though  I  have  seen  from  storm-cloud  high 
A  8eq>ent  fire  o'erleap  heaven's  bar,  — 

**  Oh,  why,  since  I  *ve  forgotten  dreaded  woes 
And  longed-for  weal,  sad  earth,  gay  skies  ^ 
So  much  forgotten,  sun  and  fire,  dawn's  rose  — 
Oh,  why  forget  I  not  thine  eyes  ?  * 

While  singing  the  last  verse  of  the  song  which  she 
was  improvising,  Kassime  blushed  to  her  shoulders; 
then,  laughing  like  a  child,  she  dropped  her  tambourine 
and  throw  herself  into  her  friend's  arms ;  and  then  the 
two  silly  young  things  both  began  to  laugh. 

Why  were  they  laughing,  and  what  was  there  so 
laughable  in  all  that? 

But  Iskander's  aunt  understood  very  well,  and,  for 
the  sake  of  her  nephew's  happiness,  she  determined  to 
bring  out  the  secret  of  the  enigma  immediately. 

"  O  my  sweet  rose,"  she  said,  playing  with  Kassime's 
rings,  "  if  my  nephew  could  have  heard  the  song  you 
have  just  sung,  ho  would  have  staved  in  the  wall  to  see 
the  singer,  and  after  seeing  her,  he  would  have  carried 
her  ofif  as  a  lion  does  a  kid." 

And  just  then  a  jar  filled  with  jasmin  water  fell  from 
the  chest  that  stood  near  the  curtain  and  broke  into  a 
thousand  pieces. 


ISKANDER  LEARNS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.       41 

The  old  woman  faced  about;  the  two  young  people 
turned  pale. 

"  Why  did  it  fall  1  "  asked  Kassime  in  trembling  tones. 

"  That  devil  of  a  black  cat !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady ; 
"  there  was  never  another  like  it !  " 

Kassime. was  reassured. 

**  Oh,  I  detest  black  cats!  "  said  she.  "  It  is  said  that 
they  sometimes  lend  their  skin  to  the  devil,  and  that  is 
why  we  can  see  their  eyes  glare  in  the  dark." 

Then  turning  to  her  friend,  she  said, —  * 

"  Come ,  Kitchina,  mamma  allowed  me  but  an  hour, 
and  there  is  the  mullah's  call." 

Kassime  rather  coldly  embraced  the  old  woman,  who 
saw  that  the  reserve  was  assumed. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  the  aunt,  accompanying  her  to  the 
door,  "  it  is  useless  for  you  to  be  angry,  Kassime.  I 
should  like  to  see  you  with  flowers  upon  your  head; 
your  happiness  is  as  dear  to  me  as  a  link  of  gold,  and 
with  a  link  of  gold,  I  know  a  young  man  who  would 
like  to  bind  his  soul  to  yours.  But  be  at  ease,  my  dear 
child,  only  Allah,  he,  and  I  know  the  secret." 

Kassime  opened  her  great  eyes,  whose  size  was  doubled 
with  amazement,  but  she  was  just  then  at  the  threshold 
of  the  street-door;  her  friend,  who  was  behind,  pushed 
her  gently,  the  door  was  shut,  and,  for  all  explanation, 
she  heard  the  key  creaking  in  the  lock. 

Iskander  Beg  fairly  stifled  his  aunt  ih  his  arms  when 
she  returned  from  Kassime.  The  good  woman  scolded 
him  well  because  he  had  not  been  able  to  keep  still  at 
his  post  of  observation. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "when  that  dreadful  jar  fell 
I  nearly  died  from  fright!  Wicked  child!  it  would 
have  been  the  death  of  me  if  Kassime  had  guessed  who 
made  it  fall." 


4S  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"Is  it  my  fault,  aunt?**  cried  Iskander;  "and  could 
I  keep  quiet  when  ray  heart  threatened  to  burst  at  sight 
of  the  roses  that  overspread  Kassime's  cheeks  after  you 
had  spoken  of  me  t  I  longed  to  gather  them  with  my 
lips.    What  could  you  expect?    Who  sows  must  reap!  ** 

*  Not  when  he  sows  in  another's  garden." 

**  Then  buy  me  this  garden,  aunt ;  do  not  let  me 
expire  like  a  nightingale  on  the  thorns  of  a  rose-bush. 
Kassime  must  be  my  wife;  ask  her  uncle  for  her,  then, 
without  delay,  and  rest  assured  that  I  shall  be  as  grate- 
ful as  I  am  loving.  Succeed  in  your  embassy,  dear  aunt, 
nnd  I  promise  you  the  most  beautiful  pair  of  buffaloes 
in  Daghestan." 

On  the  morrow  Iskander  Beg  received  the  answer  of 
Mir  Hadji  Festahli. 

Alas!  it  was  very  far  from  being  what  he  had  hoped. 

Here  it  is,  for  that  matter ;  the  reader  can  judge  how 
much  of  hope  it  left  to  poor  Iskander. 

**  Tell  your  Iskander,  for  me,"  Festahli  had  replied 
to  the  aunt,  "  that  I  have  not  forgotten  his  father.  His 
father  was  a  brute.  One  day,  before  every lx>dy,  he 
called  me, — I  will  not  repeat  what  he  called  me;  J 
could  take  no  revenge,  because  it  was  just  at  the  time 
when  the  Russians  were  interfering  with  our  customs ; 
but  I  have  not  forgotten  the  offence.  I  have  not  burned 
his  coffin.  It  is  proper  for  the  son  to  pay  his  father's 
debt,  and  I  am  no  dog  to  fawn  on  the  hand  that  has 
beaten  me.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  there  been  no 
feud  between  us,  Iskander  should  not  have  had  my 
niece  in  any  case.  A  great  honor  to  be  the  uncle  of 
this  beg!  There  are  seventy  begs  in  Derbend  just  like 
him;  I  will  give  him  their  names  whenever  he  likes. 
Why  talk  to  me  of  a  dowry !  Yes,  faith,  by  mining 
himself,   ho   could  pay  for   my   niece;   but  after   that 


ISKANDER  LEARNS  THE  NAME  OF  THE  GIRL.       43 

how  would  he  provide  for  her  ?  Has  he  any  relatives 
to  help  him  in  case  of  need  1  How  many  raven's-eggs 
does  he  get  from  the  rent  of  his  huts?  How  many 
bundles  of  nettles  has  he  reaped  in  his  fields?  He  is 
destitute,  utterly  destitute,  your  beggar  of  a  nephew. 
Tell  him  no,  —  a  hundred  times  no,  I  will  not  have 
such  a  good-for-nothing  as  he  is  in  my  family.  A  head 
and  a  purse  so  empty  that  with  only  a  breath  both 
head  and  purse  would  fly  away.  Good-evening,  old 
woman !  " 

With  the  knowledge  that  you  already  possess  of 
Iskander  Beg's  disposition,  you  can  imagine  his  rage 
when  his  aunt  brought  him  this  answer,  word  for  word. 

At  last,  his  wrath  cooled;  and  he  had  sworn  to  be 
erribly  revenged  upon  Mir  Hadji  Festahli. 

He  was  a  Tartar. 

This  explains  why  Hadji  Festahli  was  so  preoccupied 
jvhile  climbing  the  streets  which  led  to  the  dwelling  of 
[skander  Beg;  why,  in  his  preoccupation,  he  spat  upon 
the  black  beard  of  Hussein  and  the  red  beard  of  Ferzali, 
and  why,  at  last,  arrived  at  Iskander  Beg's  door,  instead 
of  knocking  impatiently,  he  knocked  very  gently. 


44  THE  UALL  OF  SNOW. 


V. 

A  BARGAIN. 

IsKANDRR  was  neither  rich  nor  married  :  his  door,  there- 
fore, was  quickly  opened,  not  half  way,  but  wide  open  ; 
for  he  had  no  fear  that  in  coming  to  see  him  people 
would  see  either  his  wife  or  his  strong-box. 

Hence  Iskander  received  his  visitors,  not  on  the 
threshold,  as  do  Mussulmans  who  are  fathers  of  a  family, 
but  in  his  innermost  room.  There  was  nothing  in  hia 
house  to  tempt  the  pilferer  of  either  hearts  or  money. 

"  Welcome  !  "  he  cried  from  the  other  side  of  the  door 
to  the  arrivals,  even  before  knowing  who  they  were. 

And  the  door  was  opened. 

Iskander  Beg  himself  had  come  to  let  them  in,  as  his 
noukar  was  grooming  his  horse.  He  stood  amazed  at  be- 
holding Mir  Hadji  Festahli  and  his  associates  in  the 
street. 

The  blood  rushed  to  his  head,  and  his  first  impulse  was 
to  feel  for  his  dagger. 

But,  thanks  to  a  violent  effort,  curiosity  overcame  the 
anger  within  him. 

He  respectfully  placed  his  hand  ujwn  his  heart,  bowed 
to  his  visitors,  and  invited  them  to  enter. 

They  seated  themselves  upon  the  rugs,  stroked  their 
beartls  with  oriental  gravity,  regulated  the  foKis  of  their 
garments,  and  the  conversation  opened  with  common* 
places. 


A  BARGAIN.  45 

Finally,  after  five  minutes  lost  in  trivialities,  Mir  Hadji 
Festahli  broached  the  question. 

He  spoke  of  the  misfortunes  which  threatened  Daghestan 
in  general  and  the  town  of  Derbend  in  particular,  if  such 
a  drouth  should  continue  eight  days  longer. 

At  every  pause  he  turned  to  his  companions,  as  if  to 
ask  their  support  j  but  it  was  now  their  turn  to  be  silent, 
and  if  they  spat  not  upon  his  beard,  it  was  certainly  not 
the  desire  that  was  lacking. 

Iskander,  on  his  part,  appeared  very  little  moved  at  the 
pathetic  picture  that  Mir  Hadji  Festahli  drew  of  the 
hardships  of  the  city  and  province  ;  but  from  the  flush  on 
his  face  it  could  be  seen  that  a  fire  was  smouldering  in 
his  bosom. 

Finally,  Hadji  Festahli  rounded  up  his  discourse  with 
this  threefold  lamentatioii :  — 

"  Woe  !  woe  !  woe  to  Derbend ! " 

"  Probably  !  "  answered  Iskander. 

"  Certainly  ! "  added  Hussein. 

"  Absolutely  !  "  whimpered  Ferzali. 

After  which  ensued  a  moment  of  silence. 

During  this  pause  Iskander  looked  from  one  to 
another  of  his  visitors  with  questioning  glance ;  but  they 
were  dumb, 

Iskander  began  to  be  impatient, 

"You  have  not  come,  brethren,"  said  he,  "that  we 
might  wipe  away  our  perspiration  and  shed  our  tears  to- 
gether, and  I  presume  that,  on  your  part,  or  on  the  part 
of  those  that  sent  you,  —  for  you  impress  me  as  being 
ambassadors  to  my  august  presence,  —  you  have  something 
to  say  to  me  of  more  importance  than  what  you  have 
communicated." 

"  Our  brother  is  possessed  of  great  penetration,"  re- 
turned Hadji  Festahli,  inclining  his  head. 


46  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

And  then,  with  an  abundance  of  oriental  circumlocu- 
tion on  the  honor  to  Lskander  of  being  the  object  of  such 
a  choice,  he  recounted  what  the  inhabitants  of  Derbend 
were  expecting  from  his  devotedness. 

But  at  that,  Iskander's  brow  began  to  cloud  threat- 
eningly. 

"  Strange  choice  I  "  he  cried  with  emphasis.  "  Until 
now  the  inhabitants  of  Derbend,  for  whom,  however,  I 
have  fought  tolerably  well,  —  though  it  is  true  that  I 
fought  on  my  own  behalf  rather  than  theirs,  —  not  only 
have  not  spoken  to  me,  but  they  have  hardly  saluted  me. 
And  here  they  offer  me  a  commission  which  I  was  not 
soliciting  and  of  which  I  am  unworthy.  It  is  true  that 
there  are  many  precipices  on  the  heights  of  Schach 
Dagh ;  true,  too,  that  in  the  gorges  of  Schach  Dagh  are 
the  haunts  of  the  brigand  Mullah  Nour,  that  there  are  ten 
chances  to  one  of  my  rolling  over  a  precipice,  and  twenty 
to  one  of  my  being  killed  by  Mullah  Nour ;  but  little  it 
matters  to  them,  — I  can  be  of  use  to  them  in  this,  and 
they  have  turned  to  me.  And  why,  pray,  sliould  I,  who 
love  warmth  and  sunshine,  ask  Allah  for  clouds  and 
raint  On  the  contrary,  I  am  delighted- that  my  house  is 
dry,  my  stable  wholesome,  an<l  that  there  is  neither  fog 
in  the  air  nor  mud  in  the  street.  Besides,  the  sun 
hatches  my  raven's-eggs,  and  my  nettles  grow  well  with- 
out rain.  You  scoffed  l>ecause  I  have  no  grain  to  reap ! 
Why,  having  no  grain,  should  I  disturb  myself  about 
yours?  You  have  maligned  my  father,  you  have  robbed 
him,  you  have  persecuted  him,  you  have  scorned  me,  and 
now,  you  wish  me  to  risk  my  life  for  your  sake,  and  to 
pray  Gotl  to  have  mercy  ujxjn  you  !  But  I  mistake,  — 
iloubilcMs  it  is  for  some  new  affront  that  you  come  to  me, 
and,  that  nothing  may  be  wanting  to  the  insult,  the  task 
of  making  me  such  a  proi>osition  has  been  confided  to 


A  BARGAIN.  47 

this  holy  man,  the  respectable  Hadji  Festahli.  They  do 
not  load  the  camel  when  he  is  on  his  feet,  but  when  he 
kneels  ;  and  I,  pray  observe,  am  on  my  feet." 

And  Iskander  stood  as  haughty  as  a  king,  as  terrible 
as  a  god. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "we  have  a  little  matter  to  settle, 
Hadji  Festahli  and  I.  We  will  absent  ourselves  a  few 
moments ;  excuse  us,  worthy  lords  !  " 

And  he  beckoned  Hadji  Festahli  to  follow  him  into 
an  adjoining  room. 

Thereupon  the  face  of  the  holy  Mussulman  became  as 
long  and  sombre  as  a  night  in  autumn.  He  arose  smil- 
ing ;  but,  as  every  one  knows,  there  are  two  kinds  of 
smiles ;  one  puts  out  the  lips  as  if  to  kiss,  the  other  shows 
the  teeth  as  if  to  bite. 

They  passed  together  into  the  next  room. 

What  black-bearded  Hussein  and  red-bearded  Ferzali 
were  talking  about  meanwhile,  we  are  unable  to  tell  our 
readers,  because  we  were  listening  at  the  keyhole  of  the 
room  to  which  Hadji  Festahli  and  Iskander  had  retired. 

The  two  enemies  returned  in  a  short  time  with  radiant 
faces ;  they  looked  like  the  two  diamond-set  medals  of 
the  Lion  and  the  Sun,  hung  side  by  side  on  the  breast  of 
a  Persian  Minister. 

Iskander  then  turned  to  his  other  guests  and  said  :  — 

"  At  first  I  had  certain  motives,  best  known  to  myself, 
for  not  conforming  to  the  desires  of  the  people  of  Der- 
bend  ;  but  the  honorable  Hadji  Festahli,  whom  God  pre- 
serve, has  given  me  such  excellent  reasons  for  complying 
that  I  am  now  ready  to  go  and  bring  the  snow  from  the 
summit  of  Schach  Bagh,  at  the  risk  of  plunging  over  pre- 
cipices and  getting  my  moustache  singed  by  Mullah 
Nour.  Allah  is  all-powerful,  and  if  an  earnest,  fervent 
prayer  can  toucli  his  heart,  I  venture  to  prophesy  that  it 


48  THE  BALL  OF  8N0W. 

will  soften,  and  that  the  very  clouds  will  weep  so  many 
tears  that  the  earth's  thirst  will  be  quenched  not  only  for 
this  year,  but  for  a  year  to  come.  I  set  out  this  evening. 
Pray,  —  I  will  act" 

Then  he  added  :  — 

"  Time  is  precious,  I  will  not  detain  you." 

The  ambassadors  thaiiked  Iskander ;  their  feet  glided 
into  their  slippers  and  the  visitors  were  gone. 

Iskander  was  left  alone  ;  it  was  what  he  wanted. 

"  Well,"  cried  he,  joyfully,  when  he  was  sure  that  no 
one  could  hear  him,  **  he  is  a  little  better  than  I  took  him 
to  be,  that  old  knave  of  a  Hadji  Festuhli.  He  could 
have  killed  me  because  my  father,  one  day,  before  every- 
body, had  called  him  a  son  of  —  no  matter  what !  and 
now,  like  a  true  patriarch,  hu  baurifices  his  resentment  for 
the  public  good,  and  gives  mo  his  niece  in  exchange  for  a 
little  snow.      Excellent  man,  that !  " 

Hussein  and  Ferzali,  as  they  went  away,  were 
saying :  — 

"  That  Iskander  is  not  a  man,  but  an  angel.  He  was 
furious  against  Derben<l,  enraged  against  Festuhli ;  but 
when  we  had  spoken  of  the  wailing  and  sutfitriug  of  the 
poor,  he  could  refuse  us  no  longer." 

And  as  for  the  people,  overjoyed  that  Iskander  had 
given  his  consent,  they  begun  to  dance  and  sing. 

Festahli  —  laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

"A  promise,  a  promise  1 "  murmured  he.  "  What  is  a 
promise,  especially  when  no  witnesses  are  by  1  He  can- 
not hold  me  to  it ;  I  should  have  died  of  shame  if  I  had 
gone  before  the  people  with  Iskander's  refusal.  And  be- 
sides, I  added,  '  If  your  journey  ends  huppily.'  Now, 
Iskander  has  not  returned,  the  paths  of  Schach  Dagh  are 
very  steep,  and  Mullah  Nour  is  very  brave.  We  shall 
■eel     We  shall  seel" 


A   BARGAIN.  49 

A  very  holy  man  was  Mir  Hadji  Festahli  Ismael  Ogli ! 
He  was  a  direct  descendant  of  the  prophet. 

Iskander  kissed  his  good  Karabach  from  very  joy, 
saying :  — 

"  They  are  fools,  bn  my  word  of  honor,  to  suppose  that 
I  am  doing  all  this  for  the  sake  of  their  wheat.  Ah  !  for 
Kassime,  for  my  beloved,  for  my  adored  Kassime,  I 
would  climb  not  only  Schach  Dagh,  but  the  moon  be- 
sides !  Ibrahim  1     Give  my  hoi  se  some  oats.     Oats  !  " 


60  THE  BALL  OF  SKOW. 


VL 

A   DISSBBTATION  ON  THB  NCWK. 

Have  you  ever  considered,  dear  reader,  what  an  admi- 
rable organ  is  the  nose  1 

The  nose,  yes,  the  nose  ! 

And  how  useful  is  the  nose  to  every  creature  that  lifts, 
88  Ovid  says,  his  face  to  heaven  t 

Ah,  well,  strange  to  say,  —  ingratitude  unparalleled !  — 
not  a  poet  has  yet  thought  of  addressing  an  ode  to  the 
nose  I 

It  has  remained  for  me,  who  am  not  a  poet,  or  who,  at 
least,  claim  only  to  rank  after  our  great  poets,  to  conceive 
such  an  idea. 

Truly,  the  nose  is  unfortunate. 

Men  have  invented  so  many  things  for  the  eyes  I 

They  have  made  them  songs,  compliments,  kaleido- 
scopes, pictures,  scenery,  spectacles. 

And  for  the  ears: 

Earrings,  first  of  all,  Robert  the  Devil^  William  Tell, 
Fra  Biavolo,  Stradivarius  violins,  Erard  pianos,  Sax 
trumpets. 

And  for  the  mouth  : 

Caremf,  The  Plain  Cook,  The  Gcuttronomigi^s 
Calendar,  The  Gourmand's  Dictionary.  They  have 
made  it  soups  of  every  kind,  from  the  Russian  hatwigne 
to  the  French  cabbage-soup ;  they  have  garnished  its 
dishes  with  the  reputations  of  the  greatest  men,  from 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  THE  NOSE.  51 

cutlets  a  la  Souhise  to  puddings  a  la  Richelieu  ;  they 
have  compared  its  lips  to  coral,  its  teeth  to  pearls,  its 
breath  to  benzoin  ;  they  have  set  before  it  peacocks  in 
their  plumes,  snipes  undrawn  ;  finally,  for  the  future  they 
promise  it  larks  roasted  whole. 

What  has  been  invented  for  the  nose  ? 

Attar  of  roses,  and  snufi". 

Ah !  that  is  not  well,  0  philanthropists,  my  masters  I 
O  poets,  my  confreres  ! 

And  yet  with  what  fidelity  this  member  — 

"  It  is  not  a  member  ! "  cry  the  savants. 

Pardon,  messieurs,  I  take  it  back  :  this  appendage  — 
Ah  !  And  yet,  as  I  was  saying,  with  what  fidelity  has 
this  appendage  served  you  ! 

The  eyes  go  to  sleep,  the  mouth  closes,  the  ears  are 
deaf. 

The  nose,  alone,  is  always  on  duty. 

It  guards  your  repose,  contributes  to  your  health.  All 
other  parts  of  your  body,  the  feet,  the  hands,  are  stupid. 
The  hands  let  themselves  be  caught  in  the  act,  like  the 
fools  they  are  ;  the  feet  stumble  and  let  the  body  fall,  like 
the  clumsy  creatures  that  they  are. 

And,  in  the  latter  case,  who  sufiers  for  it,  generally? 
The  feet  commit  the  fault,  and  the  nose  takes  the 
punishment. 

How  often  do  you  hear  it  said,  — 

Monsieur  So-and-so  has  broken  his  nose ! 

There  have  been  a  great  many  broken  noses  since  the 
creation  of  the  world. 

Can  any  one  cite  a  single  nose  whose  fault  it  was  1 

No.     Everything  assaults  the  poor  nose. 

Well,  it  endures  all  with  angelic  patience.  True,  it 
sometimes  has  the  hardihood  to  snore.  But  where  and 
when  did  you  ever  hear  it  complain  ? 


53  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

We  forget  that  nature  created  it  an  admirable  instru- 
ment for  increasing  or  decreasing  the  volume  of  the 
voice.  We  say  nothing  of  the  service  it  renders  us  in 
acting  as  a  medium  between  our  souls  and  the  souls  of 
flowera  Let  us  repress  its  utility  and  regiird  it  only  from 
its  aesthetic  side,  that  of  beauty. 

A  cedar  of  Lebanon,  it  tramples  underfoot  the  hyssop 
of  the  moustache ;  a  central  column,  it  provides  a  8up|)ort 
for  the  double  arch  of  the  eyebrows.  On  its  capital 
perches  the  eagle  of  thought.  It  is  enwreathed  with 
smiles.  With  what  intrepitlity  did  the  nose  of  Ajiix  con- 
front the  storm  when  he  said,  "  I  will  escape  in  spite  uf 
the  gods ! "  With  what  courage  did  the  nose  of  the 
great  Condd  —  who  would  never  have  been  great  except 
for  his  nose  —  with  what  courage  did  the  nose  of  the 
great  Condd  enter  before  all  others,  before  the  great 
Condd  himself,  the  entrenchments  of  the  Spaniards  at 
Lens  and  Rocroy,  where  their  conqueror  had  been  so 
bold,  or,  rather,  so  rash  as  to  flourish  his  baton  of  com- 
mand ?  With  what  assurance  was  thrust  Ixjfore  the  pub- 
lic Dugazon's  nose,  which  knew  forty-two  ways  of 
wriggling,  and  each  funnier  than  the  last ! 

No,  I  do  not  believe  that  the  nose  should  be  con- 
demned to  the  obscurity  into  which  man's  ingratitude  has 
hitherto  forced  it. 

Perhaps,  also,  it  is  because  the  noses  of  the  Occident 
are  so  small,  that  they  have  submitted  to  this  injustice. 

But  the  deuce  is  to  pay  if  there  are  none  but  Occi- 
dental noses  1 

There  are  the  Oriental  noses,  which  are  very  handsome 
nooea. 

Do  you  question  the  superiority  of  these  noees  over 
yoor  own,  gentlemen  of  Paris,  of  Vienna,  of  Saint 
Petersbui^  ? 


A  DISSEUTATION   ON  THE  NOSE.  53 

In  that  case,  Viennese,  take  the  Danube  ;  Parisians, 
the  steamer ;  Peterboiirgeois,  the  perecladddi,  and  say 
these  simple  words  :  — 

"To  Georgia!" 

Ah !  but  I  forewarn  you  of  a  deep  humiliation  ;  should 
you  bring  to  Georgia  one  of  the  largest  noses  in  Europe, 
—  Hyacinthe's  nose  or  Schiller's,  —  at  the  gate  of  Tiflis 
they  would  gaze  at  you  with  astonishment  and  exclaim : 

"  This  gentleman  has  lost  his  nose  on  the  way,  —  what 
a  pity ! " 

At  the  first  street  in  the  town,  —  what  am  I  saying ! 
at  the  first  house  in  the  faubourg,  you  would  be  convinced 
that  all  other  noses,  Greek,  Roman,  German,  French, 
Spanish,  Neopolitan  even,  should  bury  themselves  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  with  chagrin  at  sight  of  the 
Georgian  noses. 

Ah  !  blessed  God  !  Those  beautiful  Georgian  noses  ! 
robust  noses  !  magnificent  noses  ! 

To  begin  with,  there  are  all  shapes. 

Round,  fat,  long,  large. 

There  is  every  kind. 

White,  pink,  red,  violet. 

Some  are  set  with  rubies,  others  with  pearls ;  I  saw  one 
that  was  set  with  turquoises. 

You  have  only  to  squeeze  them  between'  two  fingers, 
and  a  pint,  at  the  very  least,  of  Kakhetia  wine  will  flow. 

In  Georgia,  Vakhtaflg  IV.  abolished  the  fathom,  the 
metre,  the  archine  ;  he  retained  but  the  nose. 

Goods  are  measured  off  by  the  nose. 

They  say  :  "  I  bought  seventeen  noses  of  termalama 
for  a  dressing-gown,  seven  noses  of  kanaos  for  a  pair  of 
trousers,  a  nose  and  a  half  of  satin  for  a  cravat." 

And,  let  us  add,  the  Georgian  dames  find  this  measure 
more  convenient  than  the  European  measures. 


54  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

But,  in  the  matter  of  noses,  Daghestan  is  not  to  be 
sneezed  at. 

Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  centre  of  the  face  of  a  Der- 
bcnd  beg,  Hadji  Yussef,  —  God  give  strength  to  his 
shoulders  !  arose  a  certain  protuberance  for  which  his 
compatriots  are  still  hunting  a  suitable  name,  although 
some  call  it  a  trumpet,  some  a  rudder,  others  a  handle  1 

In  its  shade  three  men  could  slocp. 

One  can  understand  how  such  a  nose  would  be  greatly 
respected  at  Derbend  during  a  hot  spell  of  fifty-two  de- 
grees in  the  sun,  since  on  the  other  side  of  this  nose,  that 
is  to  say  in  the  shade,  it  was  but  forty  degrees. 

We  need  not  be  greatly  surprised,  then,  that  Yussef  had 
been  assigned  to  Iskander  as  a  guide. 

But  let  us  confess  the  whole  truth  :  it  was  not  entirely 
on  account  of  his  nose  that  he  had  been  appointed. 

As  indicated  by  the  title  Hadji,  prefixed  to  Yossefs 
name,  Yussef  had  made  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 

In  order  to  get  there,  he  had  traversed  Persia,  Asia 
Minor,  Palestine,  the  Desert,  a  part  of  Arabia  Petrsea, 
and  a  portion  of  the  Red  Sea. 

And,  on  his  return,  wonderful  tales  did  Yussef  tell  of 
his  travels,  of  dangers  encountered,  of  bandits  slain,  of 
wild  beasts  whose  jaws  he  had  broken  like  a  Samson  I 

Whenever  he  appeared  at  the  bazaar  of  Derbend,  people 
stepped  aside,  saying,  — 

"  Make  way  for  the  lion  of  the  st«ppe  I " 

"  He  is  a  remarkable  man  ! "  assented  the  most  pointed 
moustaches  and  the  longest  beards,  as  Yussef  Beg  turne<l 
their  heads  with  the  current  of  his  plausible  speech.  It 
was  said  that  in  going  over  the  summit  of  a  mountain  in 
Persia,  bis  papak  had  caught  on  the  horn  of  the  moon, 
the  mountain  was  so  high  ;  that  for  a  long  time,  his  sole 
nourishraeut  had  been  derived  from  omelettes  of  eagles' 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  THE  NOSE.  55 

eggs ;  and  that  he  had  passed  nights  in  caverns  where, 
when  he  sneezed,  the  echo  itself  had  responded,  "  God 
bless  you ! " 

It  is  true  that  he  spoke  without  reflection  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time ;  but  when  he  did  speak,  his 
words  supplied  food  for  reflection  to  others.  What  beasts 
had  he  not  seen !  "What  men  had  he  not  met !  He  had 
seen  animals  having  two  heads  and  a  single  foot,  he  had 
met  men  who  had  no  heads  and  who  thought  with  their 
stomachs. 

All  these  tales  were  really  a  little  old  ;  doubtless  that 
was  why  no  one  had  thought  of  sending  him  for  the  ball 
of  snow  ;  but  when  by  common  consent  this  commission 
had  fallen  to  Iskander,  Yussef  mounted  his  Persian  steed, 
put  his  Andrev  poniard,  his  Kouba  pistol  and  Vladikafkaz 
schaska  in  his  girdle,  and  rode  proudly  through  the 
streets  of  Derbend,  proclaiming,  — 

"  If  you  like,  I  will  accompany  poor  Iskander ;  for  how 
do  you  imagine  poor  Iskander  can  get  along  without  me  1 " 

The  people  answered,  — 

"  Ah,  very  well ;  accompany  Iskander." 

Then  he  went  home  to  reinforce  his  defensive  armor 
with  a  breastplate  of  copper  links,  his  offensive  armor 
with  a  Nouka  gun.  Yellow  boots  with  high  heels  com- 
pleted his  costume  ;  last  of  all,  he  suspended  whip  and 
sabre  from  his  saddle. 

He  could  hardly  stir  in  the  midst  of  his  arsenal. 

He  was  ready  long  before  Iskander,  and  awaited  him  at 
the  city  gates,  declaiming  :  — • 

"  Well !  will  he  never  come  ?  If  they  had  selected 
me  I  should  have  been  off"  two  hours  ago." 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Iskander  issued 
from  his  court  on  his  Karabach  horse,  wearing  the  coa- 
tume  and  arms  with  which  all  were  familiar. 


06  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Iskander  traversed  the  city  slowly,  — not  that  he  had 
the  least  intention  in  the  world  of  exhibiting  himself,  but 
because  the  streets  leading  from  his  house  to  the  gates 
of  Derbend  were  thronged  with  people. 

At  last,  he  succeeded  in  joining  Yussef  Beg,  gave  him 
his  hand,  saluted  for  a  last  time  the  inhabitants  of  Der- 
bend and  set  off  at  u  gallop. 

Yussef  followed  on  a  Khorassan  charger.  For  some 
time  horses  and  riders  could  be  distinguished,  then  only 
the  dust,  then  nothing  at  alL 

Horses  and  riders  had  disappeared. 

Arrived  at  a  vast  cemetery,  Iskander  Beg  slackened  hi* 
Karabach's  pace. 

Night  began  to  fall. 

But  Iskander  heeded  neither  night  nor  cemetery;  he 
was  dreaming  of  his  darling  Kassime. 

Yussef  kept  glancing  to  right  and  left  with  a  certain 
degree  of  uneasiness,  and  he  profited  by  Iskander's  slack* 
ening  speed  to  approach  him. 

Iskander  was  plunged  in  thought. 

Ah  !  if  you  have  ever  been  youthful  in  soul,  if  you 
have  ever  loved  with  all  your  heart,  and  if,  youthful  and 
loving,  you  have  been  going  far  away  from  the  place 
where  lives  your  dear  one,  you  will  then  understand 
what  feelings  were  uppermost  in  the  breast  of  Iskander 
Beg.  It  is  folly,  doubtless,  to  imagine  that  in  breathing 
the  same  atmosphere  we  have  the  same  dreams ;  that  in 
gazing  ten  times  at  a  window,  although  it  be  shut,  we 
bring  away  ten  memories ;  but  this  folly  is  solacing. 
Fancy  is  always  more  picturesque  than  fact :  fancy  is 
poetry ;  it  flies,  light  as  bird  or  angel,  and  never  are  its 
white  wings  sullied  with  either  mud  or  dust  from  the 
highway. 

Fact,  on  the  contrary,  is  prose  :  it  plunges  into  details ; 


A  DISSERTATION  ON   THE   NOSE.  57 

while  clinging  round  the  bride's  fair  neck  it  fails  to  note 
the  delicacy  of  her  skin,  but  asks  itself  if  the  pearls  of  her 
necklace  are  real  or  false,  if  she  makes  love  to  her  hus- 
band, pets  her  dog,  or  gives  money  to  the  servants. 

Ma  foi  !  long  live  poetry  ! 

Iskauder  was  making  very  nearly  the  same  reflections 
as  ourselves,  —  but  he  at  least  was  making  them  at  twenty- 
five,  which  necessarily  imparted  to  them  both  the  colors 
of  the  rose  and  the  perfume  of  May-bloom,  —  when  he 
felt  himself  touched  on  the  elbow  by  Yussef  Beg. 

*'  Well,"  he  asked,  emerging  from  his  revery,  "  what  is 
it,  Yussef  ]  " 

"  Merely  that,  as  we  have  not  seen  fit  to  stay  in  the 
city  with  the  living,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  re- 
main in  a  cemetery  with  the  dead.  How  I  would  burn 
their  graves,  did  pot  every  stone  appear  to  be  rising,  and 
were  not  that  she-devil  of  a  gallows  stretching  out  her 
lean  black  hand  toward  us  !  " 

"  She  is  longing  for  you,  Hadji  Yussef ;  she  fears  that 
you  may  escape  her,"  laughed  Iskander. 

*'  I  spit  on  the  beard  of  him  that  put  her  there,"  said 
Hadji  Yussef.  "  Allah  protect  me  !  but  whenever  I  pass 
this  place,  good  Mussulman  as  I  believe  myself  to  be,  pure 
of  heart  as  I  think  I  am,  it  always  seems  to  me  as  if  she 
were  about  to  clutch  me  by  the  throat ;  and  avow  the  truth, 
Iskander,  confess  that  if  we  were  not  under  Russian  rule 
we  should  not  remain  very  long  in  the  city,  foot  in  the 
stirrup  and  gun  on  the  shoulder.  Down  with  the 
troops  !  Ah  !  but  I  should  like  to  settle  those  troops,  — 
I  would  hack  them  into  bits  no  larger  than  millet-seed !  " 

"  Really,  my  dear  Yussef,  I  did  not  know  you  were  so 
brave  at  night.  At  the  time  of  Kasi  Mullah's  attack,  I 
saw  how  you  fought  in  the  day-time,  or  rather  I  did  not 
see  you ;  were  you  not  in  Derbend  ? " 


68  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

*'  Ah,  now  !  my  dear  Iskander,  you  are  always  making 
fun  of  me  I  Did  I  not  indeed  in  your  own  presence  cut 
off  the  head  of  that  Lesghian,  wlio  was  so  enraged  against 
me  that  his  head,  after  it  had  fallen  to  the  earth,  bit  my 
foot  so  cruelly  that  I  suffer  from  it  to  this  very  day  every 
time  the  weather  change-s  1  Wliat  1  seriously,  did  you 
not  see  that?" 

"Allah  denied  me  that  pleasure." 

"Besides,  are  those  Lesghians  men?  Is  it  worth 
while  to  pit  one's  head  against  their  balls  ?  If  I  kill  a 
Lesghian,  it  matters  little ;  but,  if  a  Le^gliian  kills  mei 
Allah  will  find  it  difficult  to  fill  my  place.  So,  after  I 
had  killed  that  one,  I  thought  it  quite  enough  of  hand- 
to-hand  combat  I  went  into  the  citadel  every  day  :  I 
appropriated  a  cannon ;  yes,  I  constituted  myself  its 
artillery-man,  I  aimed  it  and  I  gave  the  gunner  the  order, 
'  Fire  1 '  and  then  I  saw  some  dancing  in  the  group  at 
which  I  had  pointed  my  gun.  Ah !  Allah  !  I  had  great 
sport  I  have  never  boasted  of  it,  but  I  can  say  this  to 
you  as  a  friend  ;  I  am  sure  that  I  was  the  principal  cause, 
in  view  of  the  damage  that  I  did,  of  Kasi  Mullah's  raising 
the  siege  ;  and  when  you  reflect  that  I  have  never  received 
a  single  cross,  not  even  that  of  Saint  George  —  £h  !  do 
you  not  hear  something  1 "  added  the  valiant  Beg,  shrink- 
ing against  Iskander. 

"  What  the  devil  could  you  hear  in  this  place,  except 
the  whistling  wind  and  howling  jackals?" 

"  Cursed  brutes !  I  could  kill  their  fathers,  mothers, 
and  grandparents.  What  wake  are  they  keeping  now, 
I  want  to  know." 

"  Perhaps  they  expect  to  feast  to-morrow  night  on  our 
carcasses.  Ton  know,  really,  Yusscf,  that  the  one  that 
captures  your  noee  will  be  in  luck." 

"Come,  come,  no  sinful  jesting,  Iskander  1     HI  word 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  THE  NOSE.  69 

brings  ill  work.  This  is  the  very  hour  for  brigands. 
When  night  comes,  the  devils  walk  the  highways. 
Iskander,  what  if  we  should  meet  Mullah  Nour?" 

"Who  is  Mullah  Nour?"  said  Iskander,  as  if  he  had 
never  heard  the  name  that  his  fellow-traveller  had  just 
pronounced. 

"  Not  so  loud,  Iskander !  not  so  loud,  I  beg  of  you  in 
the  names  of  Hussein  and  Ali,  or  I  swear  I  will  not  stay 
with  you.  This  cursed  Mullah  'Nour  has  ears  in  every 
tree  ;  just  when  you  are  not  thinking  of  him  —  crash  !  he 
falls  on  3'our  head  like  a  thunderbolt." 

"  And  then  ? " 

"How  'and  then'?" 

"  I  ask,  what  happens  afterwards?" 

"  Afterwards  you  are  caught.  He  likes  to  laugh  and 
joke,  but,  you  understand,  with  a  brigand's  pleasantry. 
If  he  knows  you  to  be  miserly  he  will  first  take  all  that 
you  have  in  your  pockets,  without  counting  the  ransom 
that  he  will  put  on  your  head.  From  another,  if  he  is 
poor,  he  will  take  nothing ;  he  will  even  give." 

"  What !  he  will  give  ? " 

"  Yes,  there  have  been  such  instances.  Fine  fellows 
who  are  in  love  and  who  have  not  twenty-five  roubles  to 
buy  them  a  wife,  —  well,  he  gives  them  the  money. 
From  some  he  will  take  in  gold  the  weight  of  the  shot  in 
his  cartridges  ;  of  others  still,  he  will  demand  as  many 
roubles  as  he  can  hold  on  the  blade  of  his  sword.  '  What 
would  you  have?'  says  he  ;  '  I  am  myself  a  poor  merchant, 
and  every  trade  has  its  risks,  especially  mine.' " 

"  But,"  laughed  Iskander,  "  those  whom  he  stops  must 
carry  pipes  instead  of  guns.  Or  is  Mullah  Nour  made  of 
iron?" 

"  Of  iron  ?  Say  rather  of  steel,  my  friend.  Ball? 
flatten  against  liim  as  against  granite.     Allah  is  great  1 " ' 


60  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"After  what  you  tell  me,  Yussef,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  MuUuh  Nour  is  the  devil  in  person.  He 
must  be  the  devil  instead  of  a  man,  to  be  able  to  stop 
whole  caravans." 

"  Ah  1  one  can  see,  poor  boy,  that  you  have  never 
heard  anything  but  the  crowing  of  your  own  cock  1  And 
who,  pray,  says  that  Mullah  Nour  has  no  comrades? 
Why,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  surrounded  by  a  parcel  of 
knaves  who  think  it  better  to  eat  bread  raised  by  others 
than  to  be  at  the  pains  of  raising  their  own.  Comrades  ! 
By  Allah  1  he  is  not  wanting  for  comrades.  Why,  I 
myself,  for  instance,  have  often  thought  of  it.  If  I 
had  no  relatives,  no  inheritance  to  expect,  brave  and  ad-> 
venturous —  But  what  is  the  matter  now,  Iskandert 
Where  are  you  going  at  that  gait  ?  They  say  that  night 
is  the  devil's  day,  and  I  am  beginning  to  believe  it,  for 
this  night  is  as  black  as  hell.  But  answer  me,  Iskander; 
what  are  you  thinking  about  ?" 

"  I  am  thinking  that  you  are  a  bad  soldier,  Hadji 
Yussef." 

" I,  a  bad  soldier?  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  say  such 
a  thing  to  me  ?  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  you  were  not 
present  when  I  settled  a  band  of  brigands  near  Damascus. 
I  can  say  without  boasting  that  after  I  had  saved  them 
the  whole  caravan  of  pilgrims  was  at  my  feet,  and  with 
good  reason,  too.  I  killed  so  many  that  my  gun  waxed 
red-hot  and  went  off  of  itself.  As  for  my  sword,  U  was 
in  pretty  shape;  it  had  teeth  like  a  comb.  I  left  seven 
dead  on  the  field  of  battle  and  took  two  alive." 

•  What  did  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"I  burned  them  the  next  morning;  they  were  in  the 
way." 

"  That  was  savage,  Yussef. " 

"  What  can  you  expect?     I  am  as  I  am.* 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  THE  NOSE.  61 

"  And  you  can  tell  me  such  tales  without  blushing  ? 
Your  musket  had  more  conscience  than  you ;  it  turned 
red ,  at  any  rate. " 

"  You  do  not  believe  me  ?  Ask  Sapharkouli ;  he  was 
there." 

"  How  importunate  that  Sapharkouli  died  eight  days 
ago!" 

"True.  As  if  he  could  not  have  waited,  the  fool! 
Well,  well!  but,  according  to  you,  I  must  be  a  pol- 
troon. Par  Allah  !  Set  me  face  to  face  with  a  dozen 
brigands,  and  you  shall  see  how  I  will  settle  them. 
Come,  where  are  they?  Point  your  finger  at  them, — 
but  not  at  night.  Oh !  I  don't  like  to  fight  at  night. 
I  want  the  sun  to  shine  on  my  valor;  and  then,  I  have 
a  habit  of  taking  aim  with  my  right  eye." 

"  I  cannot  recover  from  my  surprise,  Yussef.  A  dozen 
brigands,  and  you  will  consider  them  your  afifair  ?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  breakfast  of  them." 

*  Let  day  come,  then,  and  may  we  meet  a  dozen 
brigands,  —  a  round  dozen.  I  promise  to  leave  them  to 
you,  Yussef.  I  will  not  touch  one,  not  even  with  the 
hilt  of  my  dagger. " 

"  My  dear,  never  wish  to  see  the  devil,  lest  he  imme- 
diately appear.  Now,  as  brigands  are  devils,  and  as  we 
are  here  on  their  ground,  it  is  best  not  to  invoke  them. 
For  that  matter,  it  gets  darker  and  darker.  Satan  must 
have  made  off  with  the  moon.  Cursed  night !  how  it 
drags  !     Ah  1  help !  help  1 " 

"What  ails  you  r' 

"A  brigand  has  caught  me,  Iskander!  Let  me  go, 
demon !  " 

"  Stand  aside,  and  I  will  fire." 

"  Stand  aside,  stand  aside !  that  is  very  easily  said. 
I  believe  he  has  claws.     He  has  got  me  as  a  hawk  holds 


62  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

its  prey.     Who  are  you  t    What  do  you  want  t    Come, 
friend,  let  us  make  terms." 

Iskander  approached  YusseC 

**  I  suspected  as  much,"  said  he.  **  Fear  has  hig  eyes; 
your  brigand  is  a  thorn  bush.  Oh,  my  dear  Yussef, 
you  ought  to  have  ridden  an  ass  to  the  fountain  for 
water,  instead  of  coming  with  me  to  get  snow  on  the 
topof  SchachDagh." 

*  A  busht  I  swear  that  it  was  certainly  a  Lesgliian 
or  Tchetchen;  but  ho  saw  me  put  my  hand  on  my 
poniard,  and  he  loosed  liis  grip." 

**  He  saw  you  put  your  hand  on  your  poniard  in  such 
darkness  as  this,  when  you  yourself  say  the  devil  has 
run  away  with  the  moon  ? " 

"Those  knaves  are  like  cats;  it  is  well  known  that 
they  can  see  in  the  dark.  Oh!  my  dear  Iskander,  what 
is  that  in  front  of  us  1 " 

"  It  is  the  river.  What !  with  a  nose  like  yours,  can 
you  not  scent  water?  See,  my  horse  knows  more  than 
you." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  cross  the  river  to-night  ? " 

"Certainly." 

"  Iskander,  you  are  undertaking  a  very  imprudent 
thing.  Better  wait  till  to-morrow,  Iskander.  It  is 
no  trifling  matter  to  cross  the  river  at  this  hour,  and 
the  Karatcha,  too  !  " 

Iskander  was  already  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 

Yet  Yusscf  preferred  to  follow  his  companion  rather 
than  to  stay  1)ehind;  he  plunged  into  the  black  river ,^ 
and,  after  exclaiming  at  the  coldness  of  the  water,  after 
shrieking  that  he  was  being  dragged  down  by  the  feet, 
after  calling  Allah  to  witness  that  he  was  a  lost  man, 
Yussef  finally  reached  the  opposite  bank. 
*  Karatc-ha  meaus  black  rirer. 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  THE  NOSK  63 

The  comrades  resumed  their  journey  and  crossed  suc- 
cessively the  Alcha  and  the  Velvet. 

At  daybreak  they  had  reached  the  banks  of  the 
Samour. 

The  Samour  flowed  swiftly;  they  saw  enormous 
boulders  roll  with  the  waves,  and  uprooted  trees  were 
following  its  current,  floating  on  the  surface  like  so 
many  wisps  of  straw  on  a  brooklet.    • 

This  time  Iskander  yielded  to  Yussef's  advice,  and 
halted. 

The  riders  dismounted  to  give  their  horses  time  to 
rest,  they  themselves  lying  down  upon  their  bourkas. 

But  Yussef  was  not  the  man  to  go  to  sleep  without 
relating  some  of  his  daring  deeds. 

Iskander  listened  this  time,  neither  interrupting  him 
nor  laughing  at  him.     He  was  falling  asleep. 

The  one  told  of  what  had  never  taken  place. 

The  other  dreamed  of  what  was  to  come. 

At  last,  finding  himself  without  support  in  the  con- 
versation, Yussef  decided  to  go  to  sleep. 

Iskander  had  been  asleep  a  long  time. 


64  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


vn. 

MULLAH   NOUB. 

It  is  delightful  to  be  awakened  by  the  sun's  first  ray, 
as  it  peeps  through  a  silk  curtain,  and  lifts  the  black 
covering  of  night  from  the  face  of  the  wife  sleeping 
near  you,  as  fresh  as  the  dowdrop  on  the  leaf.  But  it 
is  more  delightful  still,  after  a  short  sleep,  to  open  the 
eyes  under  a  cloudless  sky  and  find  yourself  face  to  face 
■with  the  smiling  countenance  of  Nattire.  The  fianeie 
is  always  more  beautiful  than  the  wife;  and  what  is 
Nature,   if  not  the  eternal  fiancee  of  man? 

Iskander  slowly  raised  his  eyelids,  still  weighted 
with  dreams,  and  admired  the  splendid  picture  of  the 
morning.  All  around  him  undulated  the  forest,  rich 
with  its  Southern  verdure;  above  his  head  glittered  and 
smoked  tlie  snowy  peak  of  Schach  Dagh.  At  his  feet 
rolled  the  noisy  Samour,  sometimes  leaping  in  cascades, 
sometimes  winding  its  waves  into  great  coils,  like  a 
serpent  writhing  amidst  the  rocks. 

On  the  banks  of  the  channel  where  the  river  roared, 
the  nightingale  sang. 

Iskander  enjoyed  a  brief  moment  of  enchantment; 
but  just  as  the  bird  was  renewing  an  interrupted  song, 
a  terrible  snore  from  Yussef  roused  him  to  reality. 

The  sleeper's  nose  projected  from  his  bourka,  whose 
surface  it  overshot  by  two  or  three  inches. 

Iskander  shook  Yussef  by  the  nose  and  awoke  him. 


MULLAH   NOUR.  65 

*  Hallo !  Who  goes  there  1  "  demanded  Yussef, 
speedily  opening  his  eyes.  "Ah!  it  is  you.  May  the 
devil  fly  away  with  you!  "  was  his  greeting  to  Iskander 
on  recognizing  him.  "  Is  a  man  to  be  rung  by  the  nose 
as  a  Russian  official  rings  a  bell  to  summon  his  aids  ? 
Know,  Iskander,  that  when  Allah  favors  a  man  by 
giving  him  such  a  nose,  it  is  that  he  may  command 
respect  and  admiration  from  others.  I  admire  and  re- 
spect my  nose;  share  my  sentiments  in  this  regard,  or 
we  shall  have  a  falling  out." 

"  My  dear  Yussef,  excuse  me ;  but  when  I  am  in 
haste  I  seize  a  man  by  the  first  part  of  him  that  comes 
to  hand.  The  first  —  I  will  even  say  the  only  part  of 
you  that  I  saw,  the  rest  being  hidden  under  your  bourka 
—  happened  to  be  your  nose,  and  I  took  hold  of  it." 

"  Iskander,  my  friend ,  some  day  we  shall  quarrel ,  and 
that  day,  I  foresee,  will  be  a  sorry  one  for  you.  What 
the  deuce  was  the  matter  1     Out  with  it !  " 

"I  was  vexed  at  that  confounded  nightingale,  whose 
singing  interfered  with  my  listening  to  your  snore. 
Why,  my  dear  Yussef,  you  snore  so  musically  that, 
compared  with  the  melodies  that  you  play  naturally  in 
your  sleep,  the  Georgian  djourna's  performance  is  like 
a  penny  trumpet's." 

"  Ah,  yes,  appease  me  now.  But  may  you  all  your 
life  feed  only  on  the  odor  of  roses,  and  have  all  their 
thorns  in  the  soles  of  your  boots,  if  ever  —  " 

Iskander  interrupted  him. 

"  Do  you  not  hear  something,  Yussef?  "  he  asked. 

Yussef  listened  uneasily. 

"  No,  nothing, "  said  he,  after  a  pause ;  "  nothing  but 
the  voice  of  the  mullah  at  Seyfouri." 

"  Well,  what  says  the  voice,  Yussef  ?  *  Wake  ye, 
faithful  Mussulmans;  prayer  is  better  than  sleep.'     We 

5 


66  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

have  a  journey  to  make,  Yussef;  let  us  pray  and  be 
setting  forth." 

Yussef  yielded  to  the  invitation,  although  with  grum- 
bling. It  seemed  to  him  that  Iskander  had  yielded 
ground  in  the  discussion, — an  event  happening  with 
them  so  rarely  that  he  would  gladly  have  profited  by 
his  comrade's  frame  of  mind. 

Having  performed  their  ablutions  and  their  prayers, 
our  travellers  made  ready  to  ford  the  river. 

The  water  was  not  unusually  high ;  yet  it  is  admitted 
by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  mountain  torrents, 
and  especially  with  the  Samour,  that  the  fording  of  a 
river  is  always  more  perilous  than  a  battle. 

Everything  depends,  in  such  a  case,  upon  your  horse ; 
if  he  makes  a  misstep,  you  are  lost.  But  habit  renders 
travellers  indifferent  to  these  dangers,  although,  every 
year,  more  than  one  is  left  at  the  ford  forever. 

Our  two  begs,  thanks  to  their  skill,  to  their  acquaint- 
ance with  this  sort  of  exercise,  and  especially  to  the 
excellence  of  their  horses,  reached  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  Samour  safe  and  sound. 

Yussef,  who  had  been  as  mute  as  a  tench  during  the 
whole  time  of  their  crossing,  began  to  scold  again  the 
very  instant  that  he  touched  the  farther  bank. 

"May  the  devil  take  this  river!"  said  he;  "I  will 
heave  a  pig  at  it!  And  to  think  that  it  is  so  dry  during 
the  autumn  and  winter  that  a  frog  crossing  it  could  not 
manage  to  wash  his  feet !  " 

"  Where  shall  we  stop  in  Seyfouri  t "  inquired 
Iskander,  without  heeding  the  tirades  of  his  comrade, 
who,  the  danger  past,  had  already  forgotten  it.  "  I  do 
not  know  a  living  soul  there ;  yet  there  our  horses  miist 
breakfast,  and  so  must  we." 

"  I  will  bum  their  beards  with  a  wisp  of  straw,  —  the 


MULLAH  NOUR.  67 

blackguards !  "  responded  Yussef .  *  It  is  very  clear 
that,  without  an  order  from  the  governor,  not  one  of 
them  will  o'ffer  us  a  drop  of  water,  or  even  a  radish,  if 
they  see  us  drop  down  with  hunger  and  thirst. " 

"  The  people  of  Seyfouri  are  neither  better  nor  worse 
than  those  of  Derbend;  but  when  it  comes  to  that,  we 
are  all  Tartars." 

"Here  we  are!  we  shall  see.  Perhaps  with  a  little 
money  we  can  get  something  from  them.  As  we  ride 
along,  look  well  on  your  side  into  the  courts;  I  will 
keep  watch  on  mine.  Perhaps  we  shall  come  across  a 
grey -beard;  the  grey -beards  are  better  than  the  red 
ones.  The  grey-beard  is  a  starost,  while  the  red-beard 
is  a  rich  man.  The  red-beard  almost  always  has  money 
and  a  pretty  wife,  —  two  reasons  for  shutting  his  doors 
in  the  faces  of  two  handsome  fellows  like  us.  And  here 
is  just  the  man  I  was  looking  for.  Hey!  friend,"  con- 
tinued Yussef,  addressing  a  grey-beard,  "  can  we  rest  an 
hour  at  your  house ,  and  have  a  bite  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Are  you  on  government  service  ? "  demanded  the 
man,  a  tall,  dark-hued  Tartar. 

"No,  my  friend,  no."  , 

*  Have  you  an  order  from  the  governor  ? " 

"We  have  money,  nothing  more." 

"  That  is  sufficient  to  obtain  a  welcome  in  my  house ; 
I  receive  many  lords  from  Khorassan,  and,  thanks  be  to 
Allah,  never  have  horse  or  horseman  had  reason  to  com- 
plain of  Agraine." 

The  gates  were  thrown  open;  the  travellers  entered 
the  court,  dismounted,  unsaddled  their  horses,  and  gave 
them  oats. 

Let  us  say,  in  passing,  that  the  people  of  Daghestan 
are  remarkably  neat,  and  usually  have  two-story  house* 
of  brick  white-washed  with  lime. 


68  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Agraine's  house  was  ono  of  these.  He  invited  his 
guests  to  ascend  to  the  first  floor. 

Yussef  required  no  urging,  and  led  the  way  for 
Iskander. 

At  the  door  of  the  first  room,  AgraKne  took  their  arms 
and  set  them  against  the  wall,  as  a  sign  that,  being  in 
his  house  it  was  now  his  duty  to  provide  for  their 
safety. 

This  custom  is  so  widespread  that  our  two  travellers 
opposed  no  resistance. 

Within  this  room  they  saw  nothing  but  a  pair  of 
woman's  trousers. 

Nothing  so  irritates  an  Asiatic,  and,  in  general,  a 
Mussulman,  whoever  he  may  be,  as  a  question  about  his 
wife. 

Hadji  Yussef  was  dying  to  question  his  host  about 
those  trousers;  but  Agraine  was  the  owner  of  one  of 
those  faces  that  check  raillery  on  the  lips  of  the  jester. 

"  Have  you  not  a  pinch  of  pilaff  to  offer  us,  my 
friend  1 "  he  asked  the  Tartar. 

"  The  prophet  himself  never  ate  the  like  of  that  my 
wife  used  to  prepare,"  answered  Agraine.  "  Allah!  my 
guests  wore  out  their  fingers  with  licking  them,  it  was 
so  rich." 

"What  the  deuce  is  he  talking  about t"  demanded 
Iskander  Beg  of  his  companion. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  it  seems  to  me  that,  speaking  as 
he  does  of  the  past,  the  idiot  thinks  to  regale  us  only 
with  his  wife's  trousers." 

*•  Why  not?  "  said  Iskander;  "  they  are  greasy  enough 
for  that!" 

Then,  to  the  Tartar,  — 

"Tell  us,  now,  friend,  is  there  any  chance  of  our 
having  a  dish  of  soup  and  a  bit  of  ctiislik  ?     Here  is 


MULLAH  NOUR.  69 

bread  and  cheese,  it  is  true;  but  the  bread  is  very  moist 
and  the  cheese  very  dry." 

"  Soup  ?  And  where  should  I  get  soup  1  "  answered 
Agraine,  "  Chislik  1  And  where  should  I  get  chislik  ? 
Khan  Muel  has  eaten  my  sheep  to  the  very  last.  Ah! 
my  wife,  my  beautiful  young  Oumi,  used  to  prepare  such 
delicious  chislik !  " 

And  the  Tartar  smacked  his  lips. 

"  And  where  is  she,  your  young  and  beautiful  Oumi  1 " 
asked  Yussef. 

"  She  is  dead  and  buried, "  replied  the  Tartar,  "  and 
I  buried  my  last  fifty  roubles  with  her;  I  have  nothing 
left  of  her  but  her  trousers,  over  which  I  weep." 

And,  in  fact,  the  Tartar  took  up  the  trousers,  which 
he  pressed  to  his  lips,  and  fell  to  weeping. 

"  A  precious  souvenir,"  remarked  Yussef.  "  She 
must  have  been  a  charming  woman,  your  lovely  young 
Oumi.  Give  us  each  a  glass  of  milk  and  we  will  weep 
with  you. " 

"  Milk  1  Oh !  you  should  have  seen  my  dear  Oumi 
milking  the  cows  with  fingers  whiter  than  the  milk 
itself.  But  no  more  Oumi ,  no  more  cows ;  and  no  more 
cows,  no  more  milk !  and  now  —  " 

"  Now  you  are  beginning  to  weary  us,  my  dear  fellow, 
with  your  young  and  lovely  Oumi.  Fifty  kopecks  if 
you  bring  us  each  a  glass  of  milk;  if  not,  take  yourself 
off." 

And  he  thrust  him  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  will  sell  your  mother  for  two  onions,  you  villan- 
ous  beast !  "  continued  Yussef,  returning  to  his  seat  near 
Iskander,  and  trying  his  teeth  on  the  cheese.  "  All  the 
cocks  of  the  village  are  crowing  in  my  stomach,  and 
this  scoundrel  tries  to  entertain  us  with  the  trousers  of 
his  beautiful  young  Oumi.  —  Good !    there  he  is  now 


70  THE  BAJ.L  OP  SNOW. 

meddling  with  our  guns  and  gossiping  with  tlie  passers- 
by.  —  What  do  you  mean  by  whispering  to  that  vicious 
Lesghian,  like  a  Schummak  Bayadere,  you  wretched 
knave,  instead  of  bringing  us  something  to  eat?  So 
help  me,  Allah!  but  I  am  hungry  enough  to  devour 
the  fish  that  caused  the  universal  flood  by  flopping  from 
the  Ganges  into  the  sea.  Come,  bring  us  something, 
quickly !  " 

"Immediately,"  replied  the  Tartar. 

And,  indeed,  he  returned  a  few  minutes  later  holding 
in  each  hand  a  bowl  of  milk. 

Our  travellers  dipped  their  bread  into  the  milk,  while 
their  host  resumed  his  weeping  where  he  had  left  off", 
again  contemplating  his  wife's  trousers. 

Having  ended  their  frugal  repast,  Yussef  threw  down 
sixty  kopecks  on  the  trousers  of  the  beautiful  young 
Oumi,  and,  leaping  to  their  saddles  and  taking  the 
mountain  road,  they  had  very  soon  left  the  village  of 
Seyfouri  behind. 

"Look  back  now,"  bade  Yussef,  always  on  the  alert, 
to  Iskander.  "  The  very  Lesghian  that  the  soft-hearted 
Agraline  was  talking  to  is  keeping  us  in  sight  and  watch- 
ing where  we  go. " 

In  fact,  behind  the  two  travellers,  on  a  slight  rise  of 
ground,  they  could  descry  the  interlocutor  of  the  Tartar 
landlord. 

But  when  the  Lesghian  discovered  that  he  was  himself 
an  object  of  interest  to  the  travellers,  he  disappeared. 

"Well,  what  of  itt"  demanded  Iskander. 

"I  distrust  these  beggarly  Lesghians,  —  that  if 
what!" 

"  According  to  you,  every  shepherd  is  a  robber." 

"As  if  shepherds  were  honest  men  in  this  country  I 
The  mountaineers  murder  travellers  and  pillage  car»- 


MULLAH  NOUR.  71 

vans,  and  the  shepherds  feed  the  mountaineers  and  receive 
their  booty.  Mullah  Nour's  entire  troop,  entire  gang, 
rather,  what  is  it?  Made  up  of  mountaineers.  And 
who  feeds  Mullah  Nour  and  his  gang  1    The  shepherds. " 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  Are  not  Mullah  Nour  and  his 
mountaineers  made  of  flesh  and  blood  as  we  are  ?  The 
devil  take  me  if  you  do  not  make  me  wish  to  meet  this 
bandit  of  yours,  were  it  only  out  of  curiosity,  and  to 
see  whether,  as  you  have  said,  his  skin  is  proof  against 
a  ball." 

"  Well,  well,  here  we  are  back  on  the  old  subject. 
You  are  either  a  dog  or  a  pagan,  however,  to  express 
such  a  wish.  Does  it  seem,  then,  such  a  burden  to 
carry  your  soul  around  in  your  body  and  a  head  on  your 
shoulders?  May  the  devil  seize  my  nose  if  I  would 
not  rather  meet  a  lion  than  this  Mullah  Nour.  Why 
—  why  do  you  halt  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  not  been  in  such  a  panic ,  you  would  not 
have  lost  your  way.  Look,  pray,  where  you  have 
brought  us.  The  devil  could  not  pass  here  without  a 
lantern !  " 

And,  indeed,  the  two  found  themselves  upon  a  steep 
mountain,  forming,  so  to  speak,  the  first  round  of  the 
ladder  up  Schach  Dagh.  Their  way  was  becoming  so 
perilous,  that  our  travellers  were  obliged  to  dismount 
and  lay  hold  of  their  horses'  tails. 

At  length  they  reached  a  plateau,  and,  as  usual, 
Yussef ,  who  had  maintained  silence  in  the  presence  of 
danger,  began  as  soon  as  the  danger  was  over  to  curse 
and  swear. 

"  May  the  devil's  tail  hack  this  mountain  into  mince- 
meat! "  said  he;  "  may  all  the  wild  boars  of  Daghestan 
root  holes  into  it!  may  an  earthquake  upset  it,  and  may 
thunderbolts  grind  it  to  powder,  — curse  it!  " 


72  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  The  fault  is  yours,  and  you  lay  the  blame  on  the 
mountain,"  said  Iskander,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  What  was  it  that  you  told  met  'I  know  the  way  as 
well  as  I  know  my  mother's  pockets;  I  will  conduct  you 
through  the  defiles  of  Schach  Dagh  as  easily  as  I  could 
make  the  rounds  of  the  bazaar.  I  have  played  at 
hucklebones  on  every  rock,  and  at  pitch-penny  in  every 
cranny.'     Did  you  or  did  you  not  say  all  thati  " 

"Certainly  I  said  it.  Did  I  not,  three  years  ago, 
make  the  ascent  of  Schach  Dagh's  topmost  peak  t  How- 
ever, three  years  ago  it  was  not  so  steep  as  now." 

And,  indeed,  at  the  point  where  our  travellers  had 
now  arrived,  Schach  Dagh  rose  before  them,  a  sheer 
wall  surmounted  by  white  battlements;  and  the  white 
battlements  were  snow. 

The  two  men  comprehended  the  impossibility  of  scal- 
ing the  peak  from  that  side. 

They  resolved  to  attempt  the  task  from  the  east  side. 
Yet  it  was  easier  to  resolve  than  to  execute.  All  was 
wild  and  lonely  on  those  steep  and  rocky  declivities; 
the  eagles'  cries  alone  broke  the  solemn  stillness  which 
seemed  like  that  of  the  dead. 

Iskander  Beg  turned  toward  Yussef  and  looked  at 
him  as  if  to  say :  "  Well  ?  " 

"  May  a  thousand  million  curses  fall  on  the  head  of 
this  miserable  Schach  Dagh!  Ah!  this  is  the  way  he 
receives  his  visitors,  the  ill-mannered  pig!  He  pulls  his 
bashlik  over  his  ears,  shuts  himself  within  his  walls, 
and  hauls  up  his  ladder  after  him.  Where  shall  we  go 
nowt  Over  the  mountain  or  under  the  mountain?  I' 
faith,  ask  advice  of  whom  you  will,  Iskander;  as  for 
me,  I  shall  take  counsel  of  my  bottle. " 

And  Yussef  drew  from  his  pocket  a  full  flask  of 
brandy. 


MULLAH  NOUR.  73 

"What  a  hardened  sinner  you  are,  you  wretch!" 
exclaimed  Iskander  to  his  comrade.  "  Have  you  not 
enough  folly  of  your  own  without  adding  that  of 
wine  1 " 

"  This  is  not  wine,  it  is  brandy. " 

"Wine  or  brandy,  it  is  all  one." 

"  Not  at  all }  observe  the  distinction :  Mahomet  has 
forbidden  wine,  but  not  brandy," 

"  I  am  aware  of  that;  it  was  not  invented  in  Mahomet's 
time :  he  could  not  forbid  what  did  not  exist. " 

"  That  is  where  you  are  wrong,  Iskander.  As  a 
prophet,  Mahomet  knew  very  well  that  brandy  would 
be  invented  later,  or,  if  he  did  not  know  it,  — why,  he 
was  a  false  prophet. " 

"No  blasphemy,  Yussef !  "  remonstrated  Iskander, 
frowning;  "let  us  seek,  rather,   our  way." 

"  Our  way  ?  It  is  here, "  said  Yussef,  slapping  his  flask. 

He  approached  the  bottle  to  his  lips,  blissfully  closed 
his  eyes,  and  tossed  off  five  or  six  swallows  of  the  liquor 
whose  orthodoxy  was  contested. 

"  Yussef,  Yussef, "  said  Iskander,  "  I  can  myself  fore- 
tell one  thing :  with  such  a  guide,  you  will  more  speedily 
attain  hell  than  heaven." 

"Well,  what  did  I  tell  you,  Iskander?"  returned 
Yussef.  "  Before  I  had  given  that  fraternal  kiss  to  my 
flask,  I  could  not  see  a  single  path ;  now,  brrruh  !  I  see 
a  dozen  of  them. " 

"That  may  be,  Hadji  Yussef;  I  shall  not  follow 
your  paths,  however,"  said  Iskander.  "  Take  the  right, 
take  the  left,  take  whichever  you  will ;  I  shall  attempt 
to  climb  straight  ahead.  If  either  of  us  finds  a  good 
way,  he  can  return  here  and  call  the  other,  or  wait  for 
him.  I  shall  take  half  an  hour  and  give  you  as  long 
for  the  quest.     Au  re  voir  !  " 


74  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Hadji  Yussef,  animated  by  the  five  or  six  swallows 
of  brandy  that  he  had  taken,  deigned  no  reply  to 
Iskander.     He  set  out  bravely  to  seek  a  path. 

Iskander,  therefore,  leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle, 
began  to  ascend  straight  ahead,  as  he  had  said. 

The  day  was  drawing  near  its  close. 


HOW  YUSSEP  REACHED  THE  SUMMIT.  76 


VIII. 

HOW    YTJSSEF    KEACHED    THE    SUMMIT    OF    THE    MOUN- 
TAIN   SOONER   THAN    HE    WISHED. 

Directly  above  the  spot  -where  the  two  travellers 
separated,  near  the  border-line  of  clouds  and  snow,  arose 
an  enormous  rock.  On  its  flattened  top  men  and  horses 
found  refuge. 

Sixteen  Tartars  and  one  Lesghian  were  lying  around 
a  fire;  as  many  horses  as  there  were  men  were  eating 
grass  that  had  been  mowed  with  poniards. 

A  few  steps  away,  lying  on  a  rug,  was  a  man  of  about 
forty  years,  distinguished  by  the  beauty  of  his  counte- 
nance and  its  serenity  of  expression. 

He  was  dressed  very  simply;  yet  —  and  this  was  in- 
dicative ,  not  of  wealth,  but  of  the  customs  of  a  warlike 
life  —  gold  and  silver  gleamed  from  his  gunstock  and 
from  the  sheath  and  blade  of  his  kandjiar. 

He  was  smoking  a  chibouk,  and  fondly  regarding  a 
sleeping  youth,  whose  head  was  resting  on  his  knees. 
At  times  he  sighed,  shaking  his  head,  and  again  he 
would  sigh  heavily,  casting  an  anxious  glance  around. 

It  was  Mullah  Nour,  the  scourge  of  Daghestan;  the 
brigand,  Mullah  Nour,  and  his  band. 

Suddenly,  a  thousand  feet  below,  he  caught  sight  of 
Yussef,  who,  still  seeking  a  path  by  which  to  scale  the 
heights  of  Schach  Dagh,  was  cautiously  advancing  amid 
the  rocks. 


76  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Mullah  Nour,  resting  on  his  elbow,  watched  the 
traveller's  movements  a  little  while;  then  he  smiled, 
and  bending  down  to  the  youth's  ear,  he  said, — 

"Awake,  Goulchade." 

Goulchade,  in  Tartar  speech,  means  the  rose. 

The  youth  opened  his  eyes,  smiling  also. 

•  Goulchade,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  "  would  you  like 
me  to  bow  down  to  the  earth  before  you  t  " 

"I  should  like  it  very  well,"  said  the  young  man, 
*  and  it  would  be  a  strange  sight  to  see  you  at  my  feet. " 

*' Softly,  softly,  Goulchade!  Before  the  bee's  honey 
is  the  sting.     Look  down  there. " 

The  young  man  lowered  his  gaze  in  the  direction 
indicated  by  Mullah  Nour. 

"  Do  you  see  that  traveller  riding  along  ?  " 

*  Of  course  I  see  him." 

"  I  know  his  name  and  his  courage.  He  is  as  fear- 
less as  a  leopard;  he  is  the  best  shot  in  Derbend.  Go 
down,  disarm  him,  and  bring  him  to  me.  If  you  do 
that,  I  will  be  your  slave  the  whole  evening,  and  before 
all  your  comrades  will  I  do  you  homage.  Come,  do 
you  consent  ? " 

"  Gladly,"  returned  Goulchade. 

And  the  young  man  leaped  upon  a  wiry  little  moun- 
tain horse  and  set  off  by  a  narrow  trail,  which  seemed 
rather  a  line  traced  with  a  crayon  than  a  road  channelled 
in  the  rock. 

The  stones  could  still  be  heard  rolling  from  under  his 
horse's  hoofs,  when  the  rider  himself  was  no  longer 
visible. 

Mullah  Nour's  entire  band  peered  over  the  rock, 
curious  to  see  what  would  happen. 

The  chief  was  more  intent  than  all  the  rest. 

Perhaps  he  regretted  that  he  had  exposed  the  youth 


HOW  YUSSEF  REACHED  THE  SUMMIT.  77 

to  this  danger;  for,  when  Goulchade  was  but  a  few 
paces  from  Yussef,  his  chibouk  fell  from  his  hands,  and 
anxiety  was  portrayed  on  his  countenance. 

Hadji  Yussef  had  no  idea  of  what  was  happening,  or 
rather,  of  what  was  about  to  happen.  Stimulated  by 
the  few  swallows  of  brandy  that  he  had  taken,  he  was 
endeavoring  to  keep  his  courage  up  by  talking  aloud, 
and  was  putting  on  as  bold  a  front  as  Shinderhannes  or 
Jean  Shogar. 

"  Oh !  ho !  "  he  was  saying.  "  No,  it  is  not  for  nothing 
that  my  gun  bears  the  inscription :  ^Beware  !  I  breathe 
flame.^  I  will  burn  the  beard  of  the  first  bandit  that 
dares  to  cross  my  path.  Besides,  I  have  nothing  to 
fear;  my  breastplate  is  proof  against  bullets.  But 
where  are  these  brigands  now?  They  are  hiding,  the 
cowards!  Doubtless  they  can  see  me.  Allah!  for  my 
part,  I  detest  cowards!  " 

And  suddenly,  having  reached  a  turn  in  the  path,  as 
the  last  syllable  came  thundering  from  his  mouth,  he 
heard  a  gruff  voice  cry  out,  — 

"Halt!  and  dismount!  " 

And  as  he  lifted  his  head  in  great  dismay,  he  per- 
ceived, ten  feet  distant,  the  muzzle  of  a  gun  pointed  at 
his  breast. 

"  Come,  come,  down  from  your  horse,  and  speedily!  " 
was  ordered  a  second  time,  in  a  tone  that  seemed  gruffer 
than  the  first.  "  Make  no  attempt  to  put  your  hand  to 
your  gun  or  schaska!  If  you  try  to  fly,  I  shall  fire. 
The  gun  first!" 

"Not  only  my  gun,  but  my  soul,  master  bandit," 
replied  Yussef,  quaking.  "  I  am  a  good  fellow,  in- 
capable of  harming  any  one  whatever.  Don't  kill  me, 
and  I  will  be  your  slave.  I  will  take  care  of  your  horse 
and  brush  your  clothes." 


78  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  Your  gun !  your  gun !  "  repeated  the  voice. 

"There  it  is,"  said  Yussef,  laying  it  down  upon  a 
rock  with  trembling  hand. 

"  Your  other  arms,  now, — schaska !  kandjiar !  pistol ! " 

"  Here  it  is,  "  faltered  the  unhappy  Yussef  at  each 
it«m  of  the  command,  simultaneously  casting  on  the 
ground  the  weapon  designated  by  the  bandit. 

*  Now  turn  your  pockets. " 

Yussef  flung  all  his  money  down  beside  the  arms, 
imploring  the  bandit's  mercy  while  executing  his 
orders. 

"  I  will  cut  off  your  tongue  and  throw  it  to  the  dogs 
if  you  do  not  hold  your  peace,"  said  Goulchade.  "Be 
silent,  or  I  will  silence  you  forever!  " 

"  Excuse  me,  master  bandit;  I  will  not  speak  another 
word,  if  that  is  your  desire." 

"Silence,  I  tell  you!" 

"  I  hear  and  obey. " 

But  not  until  Goulchade  had  pointed  a  pistol  at 
Yussef  did  he  cease  to  talk. 

Goulchade  bound  his  hands,  took  up  his  arms,  and 
made  him  walk  in  the  direction  of  the  plateau  where 
Mullah  Nour  and  his  comrades  were  awaiting  the  end 
of  the  comedy. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  climbing,  Yussef  stood 
before  the  chief  of  the  brigands. 

His  comrades  formed  a  circle  round  him;  all  main- 
tained an  ominous  silence. 

Goulchade  laid  Yussef 's  weapons  at  the  feet  of  Mullah 
Nour. 

Then  Mullah  Nour  saluted  Goulchade  three  times, 
bowing  down  to  the  ground,  and  the  third  time,  be 
kissed  the  youth's  forehead. 

Then  turning  to  Yussef,  ho  demanded,  — 


HOW  YUSSEF  REACHED  THE  SUMMIT.  79 

"  Do  you  know  who  disarmed  you,  Yussef  1  " 

Yussef  s  whole  frame  shook  at  the  sound  of  that 
voice. 

"The  bravest  of  the  brave,  the  mightiest  of  the 
mighty!  How  could  I  prevail  against  him,  before 
whom  a  lion  would  become  a  hare,  and  Goliath  be  as  a 
child  but  eight  days  old  1 " 

The  bandits  burst  into  laughter. 

"  Behold,  then,  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  the  mightiest 
of  the  mighty, "  said  Mullah  Nour,  as  he  lifted  the  white 
papak  from  Goulchade's  head. 

And  the  long  black  locks  fell  down  upon  the  shoulders 
of  a  girl,  who  became  as  pink  as  the  flower  whose  name 
she  bore. 

Mullah  Nour  held  open  his  arms  to  her,  and  she 
threw  herself  on  the  brigand's  breast. 

"Yussef,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  "  I  have  the  honor  to 
present  my  wife. " 

A  wild  burst  of  laughter  greeted  the  ears  of  the  un- 
happy prisoner. 

He  turned  purple  with  shame,  and  yet,  recovering 
himself,  he  said,  — 

"  Do  me  a  favor,  master ;  do  not  sell  me  in  the  moun- 
tains.    I  can  pay  you  a  noble  ransom. " 

Mullah  Nour's  eyebrows  drew  together  as  black  as 
two  thunder-clouds. 

"  Do  you  know  to  whom  you  are  offering  a  ransom, 
skin  of  a  hare  1  "  he  cried  to  Yussef.  "  Think  you, 
wretch,  that  I  am  a  Derbend  butcher  that  I  should  sell 
spoiled  meat  for  fresh  1  Do  you  suppose  that  I  would 
demand  gold  for  you  when  you  are  not  worth  an  ounce 
of  lead?  Why  should  I  sell  you  in  the  mountains? 
Tailless  dog  that  you  are,  what  are  you  good  for?  Not 
even  to  root  the  earth  with  your  nose.     You  will  tell 


80  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

me  that  you  can,  as  well  as  any  nurse  or  old  governess, 
tell  tales  of  ogres  and  giants  to  the  little  ones;  but,  for 
that,  you  must  dress  like  a  woman,  and,  instead  of 
amusing  the  poor  innocents,  you  would  frighten  them. 
Well,  Yussef,  you  see  that  1  know  you;  you  see  that  I 
am  not  a  flatterer.  Now,  do  you  in  turn  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  me.     I  am  Mullah  Nour." 

Upon  hearing  that  terrible  name,  Hadji  Yussef  fell 
on  his  face  to  the  earth,  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  a 
thunderbolt. 

"  Allah!  "  said  he,  "  you  wish  me  to  say  what  I  think 
of  you,  how  I  regard  you,  — I  who  would  be  proud  to 
perform  my  ablutions  with  the  dust  ^  of  your  feett  May 
Hussein  and  Ali  preserve  me!  " 

"  Listen,  Yussef,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  **and  bear  this 
in  mind:  I  have  an  abhorrence  of  giving  the  same  com- 
mand twice.  I  have  asked  you  once  what  you  think  of 
me;  I  ask  you  a  second  time,  but  know  that  it  is  the 
last.     I  am  listening." 

"  What  do  I  think  of  you  ?  May  the  devil  crack  my 
head  like  a  nut,  if  I  think  anything  of  which  you  could 
complain.  I,  think  ill  of  you?  I,  a  cipher!  I,  a 
mere  atom  of  dust !  " 

"Yussef,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  stamping  his  foot,  "I 
tell  you  that  I  have  never  repeated  the  same  order 
thrice." 

**Be  not  angry!  be  not  angry,  mighty  Mullah  Nourl 
Consume  me  not  with  the  tire  of  your  wrath.  Your 
wish  has  transformed  the  ideas  of  my  brain  into  pearls, 
but  these  pearls  are  mere  glass  in  comparison  with  your 
endowments.  What  do  I  think  of  you,  illustrious 
Mullah  Nourt     Well,  since  you  insist,  I  will  tell  you. 

*  When  water  is  not  to  be  had,  Mnwmlman*  may  perform  their 
ablationa  with  dtut  or  sand. 


HOW  YCJSSEF  REACHED  THE  SUMMIT.  81 

I  think  that  your  mind  is  a  gun  adorned  with  silver 
and  gold;  its  charge  is  wisdom;  it  never  misses  fire  and 
always  hits  the  mark;  I  think  that  your  heart  is  a  flask 
of  attar  of  roses,  diffusing  the  perfume  of  your  virtues 
on  all  around  you;  I  think  that  your  hand  dispenses 
good  broadcast,  as  the  husbandman  scatters  grain;  I 
deem  your  tongue  a  branch  bearing  flowers  of  justice 
and  fruits  of  mercy.  Even  now  I  hear  you  say:  '  Go 
home,  my  good  Yussef,  and  remember  Mullah  Nour  as 
long  as  you  live.'     Well,  am  I  right,  mighty  man?  " 

"  It  were  nothing  to  say  that  you  are  a  great  orator. 
But  you  are  a  false  seer,  and,  to  prove  that  you  have 
lied,  here  is  my  decision:  Because  you,  a  beg,  allowed 
yourself  to  be  disarmed,  bound,  and  taken  prisoner  by  a 
woman  —  " 

"  Is  not  Death  herself  a  woman  also,"  interrupted 
Yussef,  "  and  more  terrible  than  the  most  terrible  of 
men  ? " 

"  Let  me  finish,  Yussef;  I  shall  not  be  long.  Since 
whoever  is  afraid  of  death  is  unworthy  of  life,  you  shall 
die." 

Yussef  gave  a  groan. 

"To-morrow  will  be  the  last  morning  of  your  life, 
and  if  you  say  a  single  word,  if  you  put  forth  a  single 
plea,  if  you  utter  one  complaint,"  added  Mullah  Nour, 
putting  his  hand  to  his  poniard,  "  you  will  not  even  see 
to-morrow.  Come,  let  him  be  more  securely  bound, 
let  him  be  taken  to  the  cave,  and  leave  him  there  alone. 
There  he  can  talk  at  will  and  as  much  as  he  pleases." 

Mullah  Nour  gave  the  signal,  and  poor  Yussef  was 
picked  up  and  carried  ofi"  like  a  sack  of  meal. 

"  He  will  die  of  terror  before  to-morroAv,"  said  Goul- 
chade  to  her  lover.  "  Do  not  frighten  him  so,  my 
beloved. " 

6 


82  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"Nonsense!  "  laughed  Mullah  Nour,  "this  will  be  a 
lesson  for  him;  he  will  learn,  the  craven,  that  fear 
saves  no  one.  The  coward  dies  a  hundred  deaths; 
the  brave  man  only  one,  and  even  then  he  goes  to 
meet  it." 

Then,  turning  again  to  the  bandits,  he  said,  — 

"  My  children,  I  am  leaving  you  for  an  hour;  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  me, — if,  by  chance,  I  do  not 
return,  —  well,  Goulchade  could  lead  you.  She  has 
proved  to-day  that  she  is  worthy  to  command  men.  Ill 
betide  him  who  does  not  obey  her!  Adieu,  Goulchade," 
he  added,  straining  the  young  woman  to  his  heart  and 
kissing  her  brow;  "and  I  bid  you  adieu  and  embrace 
you  because  I  anticipate  an  encounter  somewhat  more 
serious  than  yours.  For  a  long  time  I  have  wished  to 
measure  my  skill  with  Iskander  Beg's,  and,  thanks  to 
my  noukar,  I  know  where  to  find  him.  If  I  do  not 
return  before  night,  follow  my  trail  in  the  mountains 
and  endeavor  to  recover  my  body,  that  I  may  not  be 
eaten  by  jackals,  like  a  dead  horse.  If  you  hear  shots 
and  voices,  let  no  one  stir.  If  Iskander  kills  me,  let 
no  one  avenge  my  death.  Let  the  man  that  kills  Mullah 
Nour  be  sacred  to  you,  for  he  will  be  a  brave  man.  I 
go  in  pursuit;  adieu." 

He  slung  his  gun  across  his  back  and  departed. 


THE  PRECIPICE.  83 


IX. 

THE   PKECIPICE. 

Meanwhile  Iskander  Beg  had  found  a  path  that 
wound  around  the  mountain. 

On  his  right  dropped  a  precipice;  on  his  left  arose 
walls  furrowed  at  intervals  as  by  thunderbolts. 

But  there  was  no  return  for  the  dauntless  traveller; 
he  needs  must  always  advance.  The  way  was  too  narrow 
for  a  horse  to  turn,  and  he  went  forward. 

At  last  he  came  to  an  overhanging  rock,  under  whose 
arch  he  must  pass. 

Beneath  its  vault  the  road  was  missing,  but  a  block 
of  ice,  dislodged  from  the  mountain,  constituted  a  frail, 
transparent  bridge. 

Below  this  bridge,  at  the  bottom  of  the  abyss,  thun- 
dered a  torrent. 

The  young  man  halted;  for  an  instant  he  paled,  and 
the  perspiration  dampened  his  brow;  but  a  thought  of 
Kassime  restored  his  self-possession. 

Then  his  practised  eye  observed  a  horse's  tracks  on 
the  ice;  he  pressed  his  own  forward,  urging  him  on  with 
knees  and  voice.  By  crossing  swiftly,  the  strain  would 
be  less. 

Behind,  he  could  hear  the  broken  ice  crashing  into 
the  gorge. 

At  last  he  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  perceiving  at 
tbe  farther  end  of  the  tunnel  the  light's  increasing 
brightness  from  the  reflection  of  the  snow. 


84  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

But  suddenly,  enframed  in  the  opening,  appeared  a 
horseman  whom  the  optical  effect  rendered  of  gigantic 
proportions. 

"  Halt,  and  throw  down  your  arms,  or  you  're  a  dead 
man!  "  cried  the  horseman  to  Iskander;  "  I  am  Mullah 
Nour." 

In  his  first  surprise  at  the  unlooked  for  apparition, 
Iskander  had  reined  in  his  horse;  hut,  upon  hearing 
the  name  of  Mullah  Nour,  one  danger  made  him  forget 
the  other. 

He  spurred  on  his  horse,  and,  detaching  the  gun  from 
his  shoulder,  he  said,  — 

"You  are  Mullah  Nour?  Well,  out  of  my  way. 
Mullah  Nour!  You  see  very  well  that  there  is  not  room 
here  for  two." 

"  Let  God  decide,  then,  who  shall  pass,"  said  the 
brigand,  aiming  his  pistol  at  the  breast  of  Iskander,  who 
was  not  more  than  ten  paces  distant.     "  Shoot  first. " 

"  Shoot  yourself.  I  am  not  hiding  behind  my  horse, 
ami?" 

They  stood  thus  for  some  seconds  face  to  face,  each 
with  his  weapon  raised,  and  waiting  for  the  other  to 
fire. 

Then  the  one  lowered  his  pistol,  the  other  his  gun. 

"  Well,  you  are  brave,  Iskander,"  said  Mullah  Nour, 
"and  no  one  deprives  a  brave  man  of  his  arms.  Give 
me  your  horse,  and  go  where  you  will." 

*  Take  my  arms  first,  and  then  you  shall  take  my 
horse;  but  as  long  as  I  have  a  load  for  my  gun,  as  long 
08  the  soul  remains  in  my  body,  the  hand  of  dishonor 
shall  not  touch  my  horse's  bridle." 

Mullah  Nour  smiled. 

**  I  do  not  need  your  gun,  nor  your  horse,"  said  he; 
"  1  merely  wish  you  to  do  my  will.     Not  for  the  sake 


THE  PRECIPICE.  85 

of  miserable  plunder  has  Mullah  Nour  made  himself  a 
chief  of  brigands,  but  because  he  is  accustomed  to  com- 
mand. Then  ill  befall  him  that  obeys  not  his  command. 
I  have  many  times  heard  you  spoken  of;  often  has  your 
courage  been  extolled  to  me,  and  now  I  see  for  myself 
that  you  are  brave,  Iskander.  But  I  did  not  cross  your 
path  for  nothing.  We  do  not  pa  it  until  our  swords 
have  crossed.  That  is  my  last  word.  Salute  me;  say, 
offering  your  hand,  *  Let  us  be  friends, '  and  the  way  is 
yours. " 

"  Stay,  this  is  my  answer,"  said  Iskander,  carrying 
his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  pulling  the  trigger. 

But  no  discharge  followed ;  doubtless  a  drop  of  water 
fallen  from  the  arch  had  dampened  the  priming. 

Enraged,  Iskander  swung  back  the  gun,  drew  the 
pistol  from  his  belt,  and  fired. 

The  ball  flattened  against  the  silver  cartridge-boxes 
that  ornamented  Mullah  Nour's  tcherkesse. 

The  latter  did  not  move;  he  folded  his  arms  and 
replied  by  a  mocking  laugh  to  Iskander's  rage. 

"Oh,  that  shall  not  save  you,  brigand!"  cried 
Iskander. 

And,  with  schaska  uplifted,  he  bore  down  upon 
Mullah  Nour. 

Mullah  Nour's  sword  flashed  from  its  sheath  with  the 
swiftness  of  lightning. 

Iskander's  blade  whistled  above  the  brigand's  head, 
and  the  stroke  descended  like  the  wrath  of  God. 

Then,  with  a  rending  crash,  the  icy  bridge  broke 
beneath  the  feet  of  the  two  combatants.  Iskander's 
horse  had  upreared  just  as  his  master's  sword  was 
descending  upon  the  head  of  MuUah  Nour;  but  the 
brigand  was  not  touched. 

He  had  fallen  into  the  chasm. 


86  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Iskander  Beg,  thrown  over  backward,  had  seized  hold 
of  a  projecting  rock ;  he  clung  to  it  with  double  tenacity 
upon  feeling  that  liis  horse  was  for  some  cause  sinking 
from  under  him.  The  ice-bridge  had  become  an  in- 
clined plane,  and  the  horse  was  slipping  down  its  steep 
descent. 

The  animal  made  a  supreme  effort,  gathered  his  whole 
strength  into  his  hams,  and,  impelled  by  their  steely 
springs,  he  cleared  the  yawning  space  and  landed  on 
the  other  side  of  the  gulf,  streaming  with  sweat,  and 
quivering  with  terror. 

Fortunately,  Iskander  had  disengaged  his  feet  from 
the  stirrups.  Encumbered  by  the  rider's  weight,  the 
horse  could  not  have  cleared  the  abyss.  Behind  him, 
under  him,  the  ice-bridge  was  crashing  with  a  frightful 
sound.  The  gulf  roared,  as  with  the  greed  of  a  tiger 
devouring  its  prey ;  then  a  deathlike  silence  succeeded. 

Iskander  hung  from  the  arch. 

Below  him,  uncovered  by  the  rupture  of  the  bed  of 
ice,  a  rock  jutted  upward,  presenting  a  surface  of  two 
or  three  feet.     All  around  it  floated  space. 

Iskander  felt  his  arms  grow  numb,  his  sinews  snap. 

He  knew  that  he  could  not  long  sustain  himself  in 
that  position;  if  his  hold  loosened,  he  was  lost  in  spite 
of  liimself. 

He  calculated  the  distance  with  the  cool  eye  of  a 
mountaineer,  straightened  his  arms  to  diminish  this 
distance  by  their  entire  length,  and  let  himself  drop 
vertically  upon  the  rock. 

He  stood  on  this  granite  pedestal  like  a  bronze  statue 
of  Volition. 

He  was  saved,  at  least  for  the  time  being;  but  to 
avoid  dizziness,  he  was  obliged  to  close  Lis  eyes  for  an 
instant. 


THE  PRECIPICE.  87 

He  was  not  long  in  opening  them  again  to  note  his 
surroundings  and  seek  an  issue. 

This  rocky  excrescence,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  was 
eloping  on  the  outer  side,  slippery,  crumbling  in  places, 
and  yet  practicable  to  the  foot  of  a  mountaineer. 

Clinging  with  hands  and  feet,  Iskander  succeeded  in 
achieving  a  semi-circle  around  the  immense  column. 

He  then  found  that  he  was  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
ravine. 

To  go  back  by  the  way  that  he  had  just  come  was 
impossible.     It  would  have  been  like  climbing  a  wall. 

There  remained,  then,  but  the  one  recourse  of  descend- 
ing to  the  foot  of  the  precipice  and  then  following  the 
torrent  until  he  should  find  a  practicable  path. 

But  Iskander  Beg  was  tormented  by  one  idea,  —  to 
learn  what  had  become  of  Mullah  Nour. 

A  brave  man,  after  all,  was  Mullah  Nour,  out-and- 
out  brigand  that  he  was.  If  he  were  merely  hurt,  he 
must  receive  assistance  ;  if  dead,  his  body  must  be  saved 
from  the  teeth  of  wild  beasts. 

For  any  one  other  than  Iskander  or  a  mountaineer 
^orn  on  the  side  of  a  precipice,  such  a  descent  would 
have  been  impossible. 

Iskander  undertook  it. 

The  road,  or  rather  the  path,  by  which  he  had  come 
with  his  horse,  was  cut  ofiF,  as  we  have  said,  by  a  deep 
gorge  spanned  by  the  ice-bridge,  which  had  broken  from 
under  the  horses'  feet.  He  gained  the  steep  side  of  the 
gash-like  cleft  and  made  its  descent,  aided  by  the  pro- 
jections of  its  rugged  surface. 

It  took  more  than  an  hour  to  advance  a  quarter  of  a 
verst. 

At  last  he  reached  the  bottom;  then  only  did  he  dare 
to  look  above  his  head. 


88  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Mullah  Nour,  falling  from  a  height  of  five  hundred 
feet  perliaps,  had  crashed  through  several  bridges  of 
ice,  superposed  one  above  another,  and  had  ended  by 
plunging  into  a  vast  bed  of  snow,  from  which  the 
torrent  guslied  as  from  a  glacier. 

This  snow,  without  possessing  the  firmness  of  rock 
or  ice,  could  yet  sustain  a  man's  weight. 

Iskander  ventured  upon  it,  at  the  risk  of  being  en- 
gulfed. Only  a  pale,  wan  light  penetrated  the  cleft. 
It  was  gloomy  and  cold. 

He  soon  saw,  by  the  line  through  the  broken  bridges 
above  his  head,  that  he  must  be  nearing  the  spot  where 
Mullah  Xour  had  fallen. 

The  fall  of  horse  and  rider  had  indented  an  immense 
funnel  in  the  snow. 

Iskander  carefully  lowered  himself  into  it  and  found 
resistance  under  his  feet. 

He  had  come  upon  the  horse,  whose  neck  was  broken. 

He  searched  for  the  man  and  found  an  arm.  He 
drew  the  arm  toward  him,  making  the  horse  his  vantage 
ground,  and  succeeded  in  drawing  the  body  out  of  the 
snow  in  which  it  was  buried. 

Mullah  Nour  was  like  one  dead,  —  his  eyes  were 
closed,  he  did  not  breathe. 

However,  no  limb  was  broken ;  no  serious  woun<l  was 
apparent.  In  accordance  with  the  laws  of  gravity,  the 
animal's  fall  had  preceded  the  man's,  clearing  a  path 
for  him.     The  horse  had  saved  the  rider. 

Iskander  succeeded  in  loading  the  body  upon  his 
shoulders,  in  getting  out  of  the  snow-funnel,  and  gain- 
ing the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

He  rublxjd  I^Iullah  Nour's  face  with  his  rough  cloak; 
he  slapped  the  palms  of  his  hands  and  threw  ice-cold 
water  into  his  face. 


THE  PRECIPICE.  89 

Mullah  Noiir  remained  unconscious. 

"Just  wait,"  muttered  Iskander;  "if  you  are  not 
dead,  I  know  how  to  waken  you." 

He  sat  down,  placed  Mullah  Nour's  head  upon  one  of 
his  knees,  loaded  his  pistol  and  fired  beside  his  ear. 

The  report  echoed  like  a  clap  of  thunder. 

Mullah  Nour  opened  his  eyes  and  moved  a  hand 
toward  his  kandjiar. 

"  Ah!  I  was  sure  of  it!  "  murmured  Iskander. 

Mullah  IN^our's  hand  was  unable  to  execute  its  design, 
and  fell  back  at  his  side. 

His  eyes  stared  vacantly ;  his  mouth  essayed  to  articu- 
late some  sound,  but  his  tongue  would  not  obey. 

At  last  he  breathed  a  sigh;  thought,  returning  to  his 
brain,  lighted  up  his  eyes  with  the  fire  of  intelligence. 
His  gaze  fixed  itself  upon  Iskander;  he  recognized  him, 
understood  that  to  him  he  owed  his  life.  With  an 
eflfort  he  whispered, — 

"Iskander  Beg!" 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  latter,  "  this  is  very  lucky.  Yes, 
Iskander  Beg,  who  is  not  willing  that  you  shall  die  — 
do  you  understand  ?  —  because  you  are  a  brave  man ; 
because  jackals  and  foxes  are  common,  but  lions  are 
rare. " 

A  tear  sprang  to  the  brigand's  stern  eye;  he  pressed 
Iskander's  hand. 

"After  God,"  said  he,  "I  owe  you  my  life;  to  you, 
then,  as  to  God,  is  due  my  eternal  gratitude.  It  is  not 
for  my  life  that  I  thank  you,  but  for  your  having 
endangered  yours  to  save  mine.  Men  have  insulted, 
scorned,  betrayed  me;  I  owe  them  ill-will;  I  have 
paid  them  in  hatred.  Nature  has  endowed  me  with 
many  wicked  instincts;  men  have  attributed  to  me 
more  than  nature  gave ;  but  neither  my  friends  nor  my 


90  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

enemies  can  accuse  Mullah  Nour  of  being  an  ingrate. 
Listen,  Iskander,"  added  the  bandit,  raising  himself  a 
little,  "misfortune  follows  everyone;  possibly  it  may 
some  day  overtfike  you.  My  heart  and  hand  are  at  your 
service,  Iskander,  — a  heart  and  hand  that  fear  nothing 
in  the  world.  I  would  sell  and  cut  off  my  head  to  save 
you.  For  the  rest,  you  shall  judge  me  by  my  deeds. 
Let  us  see  now  how  much  I  am  hurt." 

The  bandit  tried  to  rise,  and  after  a  few  attempts,  he 
found  himself  upon  his  feet.  He  felt  of  his  arms,  first 
one  and  then  the  other;  then  his  thighs,  then  his  legs; 
took  a  few  steps,  unsteadily,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  few 
steps. 

"  My  head,"  said  he,  "  is  still  a  little  light,  but  noth- 
ing is  the  matter  with  the  rest  of  me,  by  my  faith! 
Come,  let  us  go!  Allah  has  preserved  me!  it  would 
seem  that  I  am  still  necessary  to  his  designs  on 
earth." 

"  And  now,"  asked  Iskander,  "  how  do  we  get  out  of 
here?" 

"  You  are  putting  me  to  it,"  said  Mullah  Nour;  "  but 
I  am  forced  to  say  what  is  so  hard  for  men  to  admit, — 
I  do  not  know." 

"  Yet  we  cannot  die  of  hunger  here,"  said  Iskander. 

*  Before  dying  of  hunger,  we  would  first  eat  my  horse, 
then  yours;  for,  as  I  was  falling,  although  I  could  not 
see  much,  I  saw  him  ready  to  follow  me." 

"No,  fortunately,"  said  Iskander,  with  a  feeling  of 
real  joy,  "my  poor  Karalwck  was  saved.  And  hark  I 
by  Allah!  he  is  neighing!  " 

Both  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  neighing,  and 
they  saw  the  horse  coming  toward  them,  following  the 
bed  of  the  stream. 

"  On  my  faith, "  said  Mullah  Nour,  "  you  were  asking 


THE  PRECIPICE.  91 

how  we  should  get  out  of  here ;  your  horse  is  answering 
us.  He  must  be  the  devil  if  we  cannot  go  up  the  way- 
he  came  down." 

Overjoyed,  Iskander  went  to  meet  his  horse.  The 
latter,  in  turn,  ran  to  his  master  as  rapidly  as  the  diflS.- 
cult  road  permitted. 

When  horse  and  master  were  side  by  side,  the  man 
put  his  arms  around  the  animal's  neck  and  kissed  him 
as  he  would  have  kissed  a  friend.  The  horse  whinnied 
with  delight;  the  man  wept  for  joy. 

"  There,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  who  had  looked  on  with 
a  smile,  "  now  that  the  meeting  is  over,  if  you  will  ask 
your  horse  the  way,  nothing  need  detain  us  here  any 
longer,  it  seems  to  me." 

Iskander  sent  his  horse  ahead  of  them,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  dog,  and  doubtless  the  animal  understood  the 
service  that  was  demanded  of  his  intelligence,  for  he 
took  the  very  route  by  which  he  had  come. 

After  nearly  a  demi-verst,  he  stopped,  scented  the 
ground,  cast  a  glance  overhead,  and,  without  hesitation, 
began  to  ascend  the  mountain. 

On  looking  carefully,  they  discerned  a  narrow  path, 
scarcely  perceptible,  worn  by  the  wild  goats  when  de- 
scending to  drink  at  the  torrent. 

The  horse  went  first. 

"  Follow  my  horse  and  lay  hold  of  his  tail,  —  I  will 
not  say  in  case  your  head  grows  giddy,  but  in  case  your 
legs  fail." 

But  Mullah  Nour  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  at  home,"  he  said;  "the  mountain  is  my 
domain.  It  is  for  me  to  do  the  honors  of  my  house ; 
go  first."  / 

Iskander  followed  his  horse.  At  the  end  of  half  an 
hour's  almost  impossible  climbing,  they  found  them 


92  THE  BALL  OF  S\OW, 

selvea  upon  the  path  which  the  bandit  had  taken  in 
order  to  intercept  Iskander. 

Of  course  this  path  led  to  the  platform  where  Mullah 
Nour  had  left  Goulchade  and  her  companions. 

The  sun  was  just  setting.  Goulchade  and  the  brigand's 
comrades,  not  seeing  him  return  within  the  time  that 
he  had  fixed,  were  on  the  point  of  starting  out  to  search 
for  him. 

Goulchade  threw  her  arms  about  her  lover's  neck ;  his 
comrades  gathered  round. 

But  Mullah  Nour  put  Goulchade  aside,  waved  back 
his  comrades,  and  made  way  for  Iskander  to  enter  within 
the  circle  of  joyous  faces,  which  overclouded  at  sight  of 
him. 

"  This  is  my  elder  brother,"  said  he  to  his  fellows. 
"  From  this  time  forth  you  owe  him  three  things  which 
you  have  sworn  to  me, — love,  respect,  and  obedience. 
Wherever  he  shall  meet  one  of  you,  he  may  command 
you  as  I  myself.  Whoever  shall  render  him  a  service, 
however  small,  becomes  my  creditor,  and  shall  have  the 
right  to  exact  his  price  with  usury.  To  the  one  who 
does  him  a  great  service,  I  shall  bo  beholden  forever; 
but  if  one  of  you  shall  harm  a  hair  of  his  head,  that 
one  shall  never  be  safe  from  my  vengeance,  even  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  or  within  the  tomb;  I  swear  it, — 
and  may  the  devil  claw  out  my  tongue  with  his  nails 
if  I  do  not  keep  my  oath!     Now  let  us  sup." 

A  rug  was  spread  and  a  scanty  meal  was  served.  The 
anxiety  felt  by  the  bandits  concerning  the  absence 
of  tlieir  chief  had  caused  them  to  think  little  about 
supper. 

Goulchade,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Tartar 
women,  did  not  eat  with  her  lover.  She  stood  shyly 
back,  leaning  against  a  rock. 


THE  PRECIPICE.  93 

Iskander  noted  her  tearful  sadness;  he  asked  that  she 
should  have  a  place  on  the  rug. 

"  It  is  just,"  said  Mullah  Nour;  "  this  day  Goulchade 
has  been  a  man,  and  not  a  woman." 

The  supper  ended,  Iskander,  moved  by  the  beauty  of 
the  summer  night,  touched  by  the  brotherly  attentions 
lavished  on  him  by  Mullah  Nour,  could  not  retain  the 
secret  that  filled  his  heart.  He  told  his  love  for 
Kassime. 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  "if  some  time  I  could  take 
wings  like  a  bird,  I  would  bring  Kassime  up  to  this 
height!  I  would  show  her  all  that  makes  me  sad  and 
ashamed  to  gaze  upon  alone,  so  beautiful  it  is!  I  should 
rejoice  in  her  admiration,  and  when  she  would  say,  *  It 
is  magnificent!  '  I  should  press  her  to  my  heart,  answer- 
ing, '  It  is  beautiful,  but  you  are  more  beautiful;  you 
are  better  than  anything  in  the  world !  I  love  you  more 
than  the  mountain,  more  than  the  valley,  more  than 
the  streams,  more  than  the  whole  of  Nature!  '  See, 
Mullah  Nour,  how  the  earth,  softly  lighted  by  the 
moon,  sleeps  in  the  midst  of  Nature's  myriad  smiles. 
Well,  I  believe  it  to  be  sweeter  still  for  man  to  fall 
asleep  under  the  kisses  of  the  woman  he  loves.  You 
are  very  fortunate.  Mullah  Nour;  you  are  as  free  as  the 
wind.  The  eagle  lends  you  his  wings  to  fly  among  the 
highest  peaks.  You  have  a  fearless  consort;  that  does 
not  surprise  me,  but  I  envy  you." 

Mullah  Nour  sadly  shook  his  head  as  he  listened  to 
the  young  man  speaking  thus  upon  life's  threshold. 

"  To  every  man  his  fate, "  he  replied ;  "  but  mark  me, 
Iskander,  envy  not  mine,  and  especially  follow  not  my 
example.  It  is  dangerous  to  live  among  men,  but  it  is 
sad  to  live  without  them.  Their  friendship  is  like  the 
opium  that  intoxicates  and  puts  to  sleep;  but,  believe 


94  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

me,  it  is  hitter  to  live  with  their  hatred.  It  is  not  my 
own  will,  it  is  fate  tiiat  has  thrust  me  outside  of  their 
circle,  Iskander.  A  stream  of  blood  separates  us,  and 
it  is  no  longer  in  my  power  to  overleap  it.  That  liberty 
is  a  gift  from  heaven,  the  most  precious  of  all,  I  know 
well;  but  the  outlaw  has  no  liberty,  — he  has  but  inde- 
pendence. True,  I  am  lord  of  the  mountain;  true,  I 
am  king  of  the  plain;  but  my  empire  is  peopled  only 
with  wild  beasts.  There  was  a  time  when  I  hated  men, 
when  I  scorned  them;  to-day,  my  soul  is  sick  of  scorn- 
ing and  hating.  I  am  feared,  men  tremble  at  my  name; 
the  mother  uses  it  to  still  her  crying  babe;  but  the 
terror  one  inspires  is  but  a  plaything,  of  which,  like 
all  others,  he  quickly  tires.  Undoubtedly,  there  is  a 
joy  in  humiliating  men,  in  mocking  at  all  they  boast, 
in  exposing  their  baseness  by  opening  their  whited 
sepulchres.  It  yields  one  a  moment's  pride;  he  feels 
himself  more  criminal,  yet  less  contemptible  than  others. 
That  feeling  gladdens  for  an  hour  and  saddens  for  a 
month.  Man  is  wicked;  but,  after  all,  man  is  man's 
brother.  Ijook  alx)ut  us,  Iskander.  How  vast  are  the 
mountains!  how  green  the  forests!  how  rich  the  lands 
of  Daghestan!  yet  there  is  not  a  cave  in  the  mountain, 
not  a  tree  in  the  forest,  not  a  house  in  the  plain  where 
I  can  rest  my  head  and  tell  myself,  '  Here  you  can  sleep 
tranquilly,  Mullah  Nour;  here  an  enemy's  ball  will 
not  find  you  in  your  sleep;  here  you  will  not  bo  bound 
like  a  wild  beast.'  Your  cities  are  peopled  and  often 
gorged  with  inhabitants;  yet,  rich  or  poor,  every  man 
has  his  place,  his  own  roof  to  shield  him  from  the  rain, 
to  shelter  him  from  the  cold.  As  for  me,  my  bourka 
alone  is  my  roof,  my  shelter,  my  cover.  The  town  will 
not  grant  me  even  a  bit  of  earth  in  which  to  lay  my 
bones.     Sorrow  is  like  the  wife  of  the  kahn;  she  knows 


THE  PKECIPICE.  95 

how  to  tread  on  velvet  carpets ,  but  she  must  also  know, 
like  the  goat,  how  to  leap  from  rock  to  rock.  Sorrow 
is  my  shadow,  and,  as  you  see,  my  shadow  follows  me 
even  here." 

"  You  have  suffered  much,  Mullah  Nour?  "  Iskander 
asked,  deeply  interested. 

"  Do  not  remind  me  of  it,  friend.  When  you  pass 
the  gorge  into  whose  depths  I  fell,  and  from  which  you 
rescued  me,  do  not  ask  whether  it  was  lightning  or 
frost  that  ploughed  the  chasm  in  the  granite,  but  pass 
over  quickly;  the  bridge  is  frail  and  may  give  way 
beneath  you.  Flowers  are  planted  in  gardens,  but  the 
dead  are  not  buried  there.  No,  I  will  not  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  morning  with  the  storms  of  noon-tide.  The 
past  is  past;  it  cannot  be  changed,  even  by  the  will  of 
Allah.  Good-night,  Iskander.  And  God  grant  that 
no  one  may  dream  what  I  have  suffered  in  reality.  I 
will  show  you  to-morrow  the  shortest  way  to  reach 
Schach  Dagh.     Good-night !  " 

And  he  lay  down,  wrapped  in  his  bourka ;  the  others 
had  been  asleep  for  an  hour. 

Iskander  waited  long  for  sleep  to  come ;  he  thought 
much  of  the  day's  events  and  Mullah  Nour's  solemn 
words. 

Then,  once  asleep,  he  was  troubled  with  the  most 
fearful  dreams.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  a  ball  were 
piercing  his  heart,  sometimes  as  if  he  were  falling  into 
a  bottomless  abyss. 

Our  dreams  are  but  memories  of  the  way  we  have 
come,  —  the  confusion  and  excitement  of  past  events. 

There  is  but  one  dreamless  sleep,  —  the  deep  sleep, 
death. 


96  THK  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


IN  WHICH  YUSSEF  RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN, 
BUT  TAKES  UOOD  CAKE  NOT  TO  KELATK  WHAT  DID 
HAPPEN. 

The  sun,  tinting  the  mountain-tops,  awoko  Mullah 
Nour  and  his  men.  All  first  prostrated  themselves  in 
prayer,  then  they  set  about  polishing  their  arms,  curry- 
ing their  horses,  and  preparing  breakfast. 

"  Your  travelling  companion  spent  a  bad  night," 
announced  Mullah  Nour  to  his  guest,  with  a  laugh. 

"  What!  Yussef  ?  "  inquired  the  latter. 

"  Yussef  in  person." 

"  You  know  where  he  is,  then  ?  ** 

*  I  have  an  idea. " 

"  I  begged  you  twice  yesterday  to  have  him  searched 
for,  but  you  gave  me  no  answer." 

"  Because  I  knew  where  to  find  him." 

"  And  where  is  he  t  " 

"  Fifty  paces  from  here." 

•*  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

*  Nothing  at  all.  I  give  him  to  you;  you  may  do 
what  you  like  with  him.  Eh!  my  lads,"  continued 
Mullah  Nour,  addressing  his  men,  "  carry  our  prisoner 
something  to  eat,  and  say  that  Mullah  Nour  does  not 
wish  to  starve  him  to  death." 

Then  he  told  Iskander  how  Goulchade  had  stopped 
Yussef,  forced  him  to  surrender  his  arms,  and  brought 
him  back  with  her  as  a  prisoner. 


YUSSEF   RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.         97 

When  breakfast  was  over,  Mullah  ^our  took  Iskander 
by  the  hand  and  held  him  to  his  heart,  and  cheek  to 
cheek. 

"  You  are  at  home  here,"  said  he;  "I  shall  always 
greet  you  with  joy,  I  shall  always  love  you  with  grati- 
tude. Now  I  have  pointed  out  a  route  by  which  you 
can  ascend  Schach  Dagh,  and  the  one  by  which  you  are 
to  descend;  make  haste  to  serve  your  fellow  country- 
men. I  myself  am  going  in  the  opposite  direction  and 
for  another  purpose.  Adieu!  remember  Mullah  Nour; 
if  you  are  in  need  of  a  friend,  summon  him,  and  the 
avalanche  will  not  more  swiftly  reach  the  mountain's 
foot  than  he  will  reach,  you. " 

And,  like  a  flight  of  wild  pigeons,  the  chief  and  all 
his  band  whirled  out  of  sight. 

Iskander  then  went  to  the  cave. 

Yussef  was  lying  down  with  his  hands  tied,  his  eyes 
bandaged. 

The  young  beg  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  experi- 
ment on  the  courage  of  his  companion. 

"  Get  up,  and  prepare  to  die!  "  said  he,  roughly,  dis- 
guising his  voice. 

Yussef  trembled  in  every  limb;  but,  thanks  to  a 
strenuous  effort,  he  managed  to  get  upon  his  knees. 

He  was  deathly  pale;  his  nose  seemed  to  have  lost 
that  firm  base  by  whose  help  it  ordinarily  formed  an 
acute  angle  with  his  mouth,  an  obtuse  angle  with 
his  chin,  and  drooped  inert  over  his  lips.  He  raised 
his  hands  to  heaven  and  implored  pardon  between  his 
groans. 

"0  Angel  Azrael,"he  cried,  "spare  my  head,  it  is 
not  ripe  for  death!  Where  and  how  have  I  offended 
you  t  " 

"It  is  not  my  will,  it  is  Mullah  Nour's.  He  said: 
7 


98  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

*  Yussef  fought  like  a  tiger;  now  that  Yussef  knows  mj 
retreat,  there  is  no  more  safety  for  me  in  the  mountain. 
Resides,  the  blood  of  my  comrades  spilled  by  him  at 
the  siege  of  Derbend  cries  aloud  for  vengeance,  and  it 
must  be  taken.'  " 

"11"  cried  Yussef,  "III  fought  in  the  siege  of  Der- 
bend t  What  abominable  calumniator  says  that  7  Shame 
befall  the  tomb  of  his  fathers  and  of  his  grandfathers, 
even  to  the  tenth  generation!  No,  no!  I  am  not  the 
man  to  fight  against  my  compatriots,  not  I.  When 
trumpet  or  drum  called  to  the  rampart,  for  my  part  I 
descended  at  once  to  the  l^azaar;  and  when  it  was  my 
turn  to  march,  I  took  refuge  in  the  mosque  and  slept 
there  honestly  and  conscientiously,  to  the  glory  of  the 
prophet.  True,  one  day  I  fired  three  shots;  but  it  is 
an  established  fact  that  the  enemy  was  five  versts  away. 
As  for  my  sabre,  try  yourself  to  draw  it,  and  if  you  can 
get  the  blade  out  of  its  sheath,  you  may  strike  otf  my 
head  with  it.  Not  once,  since  the  days  of  my  father, 
has  it  ever  been  out.  And  why  should  I  have  fought 
against  Kasi  Mullah,  against  a  brave,  a  holy  man,  a 
prophet?  Had  he  not  cut  otf  tlie  heads  of  all  who  drank 
and  smoked,  I  should  bo  to-day  one  of  his  most  ardent 
fanatics. " 

"  That  may  be ;  but  there  is  a  religious  side  to  ^f  ullah 
Nour's  wrath  against  you;  he  knows  that  you  are  a 
partisan  of  Ali,  and  he  has  sworn  to  slay  all  who  believe 
in  Ali." 

"A  partisan  of  Ali,  It  Why,  I  would  pluck  him 
by  the  beard,  this  Ali  and  his  twelve  caliphs!  What 
is  more,  if  I  hud  lived  in  Kgypt  in  the  time  of  the 
Fatimites,  I  should  not  have  rested  until  I  had  dragged 
them  from  the  throne.  I  am  a  Sunnitt*,  pray  under- 
stand, a  Sunnitc,  heart  and  soul !    Who  i^  he,  this  Ali  t 


YUSSEF  RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.         99 

An  atom  of  dust,  —  I  give  a  puif  and  it  flies  away;  a 
grain  of  sand,  —  I  crush  it  under  foot  as  I  walk." 

"But,  above  all,  look  you,  the  thing  Mullah  Nour 
will  never  forgive  you  is  your  friendship  for  Iskander, 
his  mortal  enemy." 

"  My  friendship !  "  cried  Yussef. 

"  Was  it  not  a  proof  of  friendliness,  then,  your  accom- 
panying him  to  Schach  Dagh  ?  " 

"  Of  friendliness,  no  doubt,  directed  especially  toward 
my  own  pleasure." 

"Well,  the  affair  has  ended  rather  worse  for  him  than 
for  you,  and  his  head  has  fallen  before  yours." 

"  His  head  has  fallen?  "  echoed  Yussef.  "  Ah,  well, 
it  was  no  great  loss,  that.  His  head  was  not  of  miich 
account.  But  instead  of  bearing  me  ill-will.  Mullah 
Nour  ought  to  thank  me,  since  it  was  I  who  brought 
him  Iskander,  who  delivered  him  up,  bound  hand  and 
foot.  Iskander  my  friend?  A  precious  friend  he  is 
now  !  but  when  he  was  alive,  I  would  have  exchanged 
him  for  a  piece  of  gingerbread.  Iskander  my  friend! 
one  of  the  greatest  rakes  in  Derbend,  who  ate  ham  with 
the  Russian  officers  ?  He  my  friend  ?  I  would  burn  his 
mother's  beard. " 

"  Wretch  that  you  are  !  Leave  the  dead  in  peace. 
If  fear  had  not  turned  your  head,  you  would  reflect  that 
his  mother  could  n't  have  a  beard." 

"  No  beard?  Why,  I  tell  you,  myself,  that  she  used 
to  shave.  Allah!  the  number  of  razors  that  she  broke! 
Iskander's  friend  ?  I  ?  —  why,  would  I  have  been  such 
a  fool  as  to  make  a  friend  of  a  man  whose  father  was  a 
brigand,  whose  mother  was  a  lunatic,  and  whose  vmcle 
made  boots  1 " 

"  I  am  tired  of  hearing  you  perjure  yourself,  renegade! 
liar!  tongue  of  a  dog!  Bend  your  neck,  the  sword  is 
raised ! " 


100  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Iskander  made  his  schaska  whistle  around  Yusscf's 
head;  but  instead  of  touching  him  with  its  blade,  with 
his  usiial  skill  he  lifted  on  its  point  the  handkerchief 
that  bandaged  his  eyes. 
'  Yussef ,  terror-stricken,  looked  at  his  pretended  execu- 
tioner and  recognized    skander. 

He  uttered  a  cry  and  sat  stupefied. 

•  Well,  and  what  do  you  see,  you  wild  boar  stuffed 
with  folly  1  Come,  tell  me  again  that  my  father  was  a 
brigand,  my  mother  was  a  lunatic,  and  my  uncle  made 
boots!" 

Yussef,  instead  of  seeking  pardon  and  looking  con- 
fused, burst  out  laughing,  and  threw  himself  upon 
Iskander's  neck. 

"Ah!  then  I  have  managed  to  put  you  in  a  rage. 
There  was  no  lack  of  skill  on  my  part.  It  took  a  long 
time,  but  I  succeeded  at  last.  Hu!  ha!  snare  a  night- 
ingale, and  catch  a  crow!  Why,  do  you  think  that, 
with  the  very  first  word,  I  did  not  recognize  your  voice, 
—  your  voice,  the  voice  of  my  best  friend?  Why,  I 
should  know  it  amidst  the  crying  of  jackals,  the  miaul- 
ing of  cats,  and  the  barking  of  dogs!  " 

"  Very  well;  you  knew  me?" 

"Do  you  doubt  it?" 

"  No ;  you  scoffed  at  me. " 

"Just  for  a  laugh,  a  joke,  —  for  nothing  else;  you 
understand,  surely  ? " 

"  But  how  alx)ut  your  surrendering  to  Mullah  Nour's 
wife  ?     How  about  your  letting  her  disarm  you  1 " 

"  Do  you  not  recall  having  seen  at  the  house  of  the 
commandant  of  Derbend  an  engraving  which  represents 
a  very  beautiful  woman  indeed,  unlacing  the  breast- 
plate of  a  beg  called  MarsT  Underneath,  it  says  in 
Kuaaian :  Mars  dUarmed  by  Venus.    That  is  the  reason 


YUSSEF   RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.       101 

why  I  allowed  myself  to  be  disarmed,  my  dear  friend. 
Why,  to  such  a  beautiful  creature  I  would  have  given 
up  everything,  Iskander,  from  my  bourka  to  my  heart. 
I  would  like  to  know  what  you  would  have  done,  you 
rogue,  on  meeting  her  face  to  face.  Such  a  nose!  such 
eyes!  and  a  mouth  no  bigger  than  the  hole  in  a  pearl 
bead !  And  her  figure ,  too !  A  connoisseur  like  you 
would  have  noticed  her  figure.  I  longed  to  rob  her  of 
her  belt  to  make  me  a  ring." 

"  And  so  it  was  for  love  that  you  let  yourself  be 
bound,  and  that  is  why  you  followed  her  at  the  end  of 
a  rope  1 " 

"  I  would  have  followed  her  at  the  end  of  a  hair." 

"  Perhaps;  yet  one  thing  is  very  certain,  — you  will 
not  talk  in  Derbend,  and  especially  in  my  presence,  of 
your  devotion  to  Goulchade. " 

"  Goulchade  ?  Her  name  is  Goulchade  ?  What  a 
charming  name !  But  you  are  the  one  that  is  making 
me  prate;  that  is  the  reason  why  I  have  not  asked  how 
you  chance  to  be  here." 

Iskander  briefly  related  what  had  passed  between  him 
and  Mullah  Nour.  When  he  reached  the  point  of  the 
brigand's  fall  over  the  precipice,  Yussef  interrupted 
him. 

"  Then  he  must  be  dead  1 "  said  he. 

"No." 

"  What !  not  dead  ?  " 

Iskander  told  how  he  had  saved  Mullah  Nour  and 
returned  him  to  his  men. 

"Then  he  is  there,  this  dear  Mullah  Nour?"  de- 
manded Yussef. 

"  No,  he  has  gone  away." 

«  Where  ? " 

"On  an  expedition." 


102  THE  iJALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  You  arc  veiy  sure  of  it  ?  " 

*  I  havo  seen  the  dust  flying  after  his  last  horseman." 

"  And  he  fell  from  a  height  of  five  hundred  feet,  say 
you,  and  the  devil  did  not  break  his  neck  t  and  he  did 
not  shatter  his  arms  and  legs  into  a  thousand  pieces) 
I  shall  spit  on  the  gun  of  that  brigand  yet.  Ah !  if  he 
had  come  to  bar  my  way  himself,  instead  of  sending  his 
wife,  I  should  have  taught  him  how  to  write  the  word 
brave.     But  he  did  not  dare,  the  coward  !  ** 

"  Come,  come,  be  silent,  you  braggart !  Why,  if  you 
had  met  Mullah  Nour  in  person,  you  would  have  left 
oflF  lying  and  boasting,  for  you  would  have  been  fright- 
ened to  death. " 

"Frightened!  I?  Learn,  my  dear  Iskander,  that 
there  is  but  one  man  in  the  whole  world  that  can  make 
me  afraid,  and  he  is  the  man  I  see  in  the  mirror  when 
I  look  at  myself." 

This  time  Iskander  could  not  contain  himself.  The 
gasconade  was  so  strong,  even  for  a  Tartar,  that  he  burst 
out  laughing. 

"Come,"  said  he,  "enough  of  this.  You  have  just 
taught  me  something  new  about  yourself,  and  yet  I 
thought  I  knew  you  very  well.  To  horse  !  and  away, 
brave  Yussef !  " 

"  You  know  the  road  1 " 

"  Yes;  Mullah  Nour  pointed  it  out  to  me." 

"  Well,  go  ahead  and  I  will  follow  you,  and  he  shall 
fare  ill  that  attacks  us  in  the  rear." 

Iskander  took  the  path  which  the  bandit  had  shown 
him. 

Watching  them  from  below,  one  would  certainly  not 
have  thought  that  human  beings  would  venture  on  such 
a  road. 

When  they  had  reached  the  snow  line.  Iskander  gave 


YUSSEF  RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.       103 

his  horse  to  Yussef  to  hold,  and  he  alone,  jar  in  hand, 
began  to  scale  the  highest  peak. 

For  the  first  time,  this  virginal  snow  was  receiving 
the  imprint  of  a  human  foot. 

Iskander  prostrated  himself  upon  the  peak  where, 
hitherto,  only  the  angels  had  prayed. 

When  he  lifted  his  head  and  gazed  about,  he  looked 
upon  a  land  of  marvellous  beauty. 

Before  him  ran  down  the  whole  chain  of  mountains 
which  extend  from  the  Caspian  Sea  to  the  Avari;  his 
sight  penetrated  the  depth  of  the  valleys,  where  he  saw 
rivers  as  shining  and  slender  as  silken  threads. 

All  was  calm  and  silent.  Iskander  was  too  far  dis- 
tant to  be  able  to  distinguish  either  men  or  animals ;  too 
high  up  to  hear  a  sound. 

He  might  have  remained  a  long  time  admiring  the 
splendid  spectacle,  had  not  the  atmosphere,  totally  free 
at  this  height  from  all  terrestrial  vapors,  been  too  rare 
for  human  lungs. 

The  young  beg's  every  artery  began  to  throb,  as  if 
the  blood,  not  being  sufficiently  compressed  by  the  air, 
were  ready  to  issue  from  the  pores. 

He  then  bethought  him  to  acquit  himself  of  his 
mission,  and  in  his  profound  faith  that  everything  was 
possible  to  the  God  between  whom  and  himself  nothing 
seemed  to  intervene,  he  formed  a  ball  of  snow,  placed  it 
in  his  vase,  and  began  to  descend,  holding  the  vessel  high 
above  his  head,  in  order  that,  in  accordance  with  the  de- 
cree, it  should  not  be  sullied  by  contact  with  the  earth. 

The  descent  was  as  difficult  as  the  ascent,  in  a  very 
different  way;  but  throughout  the  entire  expedition,  a 
higher  power  had  seemed  to  watch  over  Iskander. 

At  the  end  of  almost  an  hour  he  found  himself  beside 
Yussef. 


104  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Yossef  questioned  him,  but  Iskande?  shook  his  head. 

Yussef  tried  to  engage  him  in  jest,  but  Iskander 
gravely  pointed  to  the  sky. 

He  was  descending  to  the  plain,  full  of  the  sublimity 
of  those  tall  summits. 

"  Umph  I  "  said  Yussef,  "  you  must  have  taken  a  bite 
of  the  sun  up  there;  you  seem  afraid  of  dropping  a 
morsel  if  you  open  your  mouth." 

But  Yussef  spoke  in  vain;  he  did  not  succeed  in 
extracting  a  single  word  from  Iskander. 

He  finally  became  silent  in  turn. 

In  spite  of  all  their  haste,  our  travellers  did  not  arrive 
at  Derbend  until  far  into  the  night,  and  long  after  the 
gates  had  been  shut. 

Iskander's  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  rend  his  breast; 
fear,  doubt,  hope,  challenged  each  other  with  every 
throb.  He  hung  the  jar  on  a  branch  of  a  tree,  and 
moodily  regarded,  sometimes  the  black  wall,  which 
separated  him  from  what  he  held  dearest  on  earth, 
sometimes  the  heavens,  wliich  seemed  to  be  frowning 
at  him.  He  appeared  to  be  asking  all  Nature:  **  Must 
I  fear T     May  I  hope?" 

Ere  long  he  saw  with  joy  that  clouds  were  gathering 
in  the  sky  and  stealing  over  the  brilliant  face  of  the 
moon. 

Overjoyed,  he  plucked  the  sleeping  Yussef  by  the 
arm  and  exclaimed, — 

"  Look,  Yussef!  look  at  these  clouds  scudding  across 
the  heavens,  hurrying  like  a  flock  of  sheep!  ** 

"A  flock  of  sheep!"  muttered  Yussef.  "Pick  out 
the  tenderest,  and  take  the  ramrod  from  my  gun  to  make 
chislik  out  of  him.     I  am  literally  dying  of  hunger." 

"Listen  to  the  animal,"  said  Iskander;  "he  never 
thinks  of  anything  but  his  stomach.     The  sheep  that  I 


YUSSEF  KELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.       105 

am  talking  about  are  in  the  clouds,  Yussef ;  it  is  going 
to  rain,  my  friend." 

"Ah!"  murmured  Yussef,  "if  that  meant  larks,  I 
would  get  under  the  spout,  with  my  mouth  wide  open, 
too!  " 

"  Well,  sleep  then,  brute,  for  there  is  a  proverb  that 
says:  '  Who  sleeps,  dines.'  " 

"Good-night,  Tskander!  "  said  Yussef,  yawning. 

And  he  went  to  sleep  on  his  bourka.  As  for  Iskander, 
he  did  not  close  his  eyes  during  the  night,  nor  did  he 
cease  scanning  the  heavens,  which  became  more  and 
more  overcast. 

At  daybreak  the  gates  of  Derbend  were  opened,  and 
in  a  brief  space  of  time  it  was  known  throughout  the 
town  that  Iskander  had  arrived  with  the  snow  from 
Schach  Dagh. 

After  a  short  prayer,  the  mullahs,  accompanied  by 
the  people,  led  the  way  to  the  sea. 

Iskander  modestly  bore  the  vessel  containing  the 
melted  snow;  but  Yussef,  the  centre  of  an  immense 
crowd,  narrated  with  great  gusto  the  events  of  their  jour- 
ney. Only,  in  Yussef's  story,  Iskander  wholly  disap- 
peared. As  for  himself,  Yussef,  he  had  gone  so  near  to 
heaven  as  to  hear  the  snoring  of  the  seven  sleepers  and 
the  voices  of  tlie  houris.  He  had  suffered  horribly  from 
the  cold;  but,  fortunately,  he  had  got  warmed  up  in  a 
fight  with  two  bears  and  a  serpent  of  frightful  dimen- 
sions. He  had  wished  to  bring  home  the  serpent's 
skin,  and  had  flayed  it  for  that  purpose ;  but  his  horse 
was  so  terribly  afraid  of  it  that  he  was  obliged  to 
abandon  it  on  the  way.  However,  he  knew  exactly 
where  it  lay,  and,  on  the  morrow,  he  would  send  the 
muezzin  to  fetch  it. 

But,  however  interesting  Yussef's  tales  might  be,  he 


106  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

had  not  a  single  auditor  wlien  the  time  came  for  Iskander 
to  turn  the  water  from  his  jar  into  tho  sea. 

Since  early  morning  a  high  wind  had  been  blowing; 
but  the  wind  brought  no  rain, —  not  one  drop  of  water 
fell. 

When,  after  a  long  prayer  by  the  mullah,  Iskander 
was  ready  to  empty  his  jar  into  the  Caspian,  he  turned 
to  Festahli,  who  was  walking  in  the  front  rank,  and 
said,  — 

**  Remember  your  promise.** 

"  Remember  the  conditions,"  Festahli  in  turn  replied. 
**  Your  fate  lies  not  with  the  snow,  but  with  the  rain. 
If  you  are  dear  to  Allah,  you  are  very  dear  to  me." 

Iskander  elevated  the  jar  above  his  head,  and  in  the 
sight  of  all  he  poured  the  snow-water  from  Scbach  Dagh 
into  the  sea. 

Immediately,  as  if  by  magic,  a  great  tempest  arose; 
clouds,  which  seemed  charged  with  rain,  blackened 
the  sky;  thunder  was  heard  rumbling  in  the  distance; 
the  leaves,  violently  agitated  by  the  wind,  shook  oflF  the 
dust  which  covered  them.  Young  Tartar  girls  peeped 
brightly  from  the  veils  which  the  wind  tried  to  snatch 
from  their  heads.  The  hands  of  all  were  outstretched 
to  feel  the  first  drops  of  the  rain  so  impatiently  awaited. 
At  last  a  flash  rent  the  dome  of  clouds  amassed  above 
Derbend,  and  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  windows  of  heaven 
had  opened  at  once  in  another  deluge. 

A  torrent  of  rain  poured  from  the  clouds  and  flooded 
the  land  of  Daghestan. 

This  time  no  one  dreamed  of  fleeing,  no  one  thought 
oven  of  opening  his  umbrella. 

Not  joy,  but  delirium,  possessed  the  people. 

Papaks  flew  up  into  the  air  and  fell  hack  into  the 
water;  prayers  and  shrieks  of  delight  joined  in  flight  to 


YUSSEF   RELATES  WHAT  DID  NOT  HAPPEN.       107 

heaven.  They  hugged  each  other,  they  congratulated 
each  other,  they  gazed  at  the  water  which  was  descend- 
ing like  a  giant  waterfall,  or  rather,  like  a  hundred 
waterfalls,  from  Tartar  city  to  Russian  city,  and  leaping 
from  the  citadel  into  the  sea. 

Iskander  alone  felt  more  joy  within  himself  than  all 
the  other  inhabitants  of  Derbend  put  together. 

For  him,  a  wife  was  coming  down  from  heaven  with 
the  rain. 


108  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 


XL 

TWO   HOLT   MEN. 

Youth  —  what  is  it  without  lovet  Love  —  what  is 
it  without  youth  t 

The  tire  bums  readily  in  pure  air,  and  what  air  is 
purer  than  the  breath  of  spring  ? 

True,  the  walls  of  Mussulmans'  courts  are  high,  and 
the  locks  of  their  gates  are  strong;  but  the  wind  blows 
over  the  walls  and  through  the  key-holes. 

The  hearts  of  beautiful  women  are  well  protected,  — 
they  are  kept  behind  the  padlocks  of  a  thousand  preju* 
dices;  but  love  is  like  the  wind, — it  easily  finds  a 
passage. 

Kassime  was  already  in  love  without  the  courage  to 
confess  it.  Iskander  Beg  had  the  most  of  her  thoughts 
by  day  and  the  most  of  her  dreams  by  night;  while 
embroidering  in  advance  with  gold,  as  every  young 
Tartar  girl  does,  the  pistol-case  for  the  fiance  whom 
she  did  not  know,  Kassime  kept  saying  to  herself,  — 

"Oh!  if  this  might  be  Iskander's!  " 

Judge,  then,  of  her  joy  when  her  uncle  came  officially 
to  announce  that  she  was  the  promised  bride  of  this 
handsome  young  man ! 

She  became  redder  than  a  cherry,  and  her  heart  began 
to  beat  like  a  wild  dove's. 

And  so  her  dearest  and  most  secret  wishes  were  to  be 
realized. 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  109 

From  that  moment,  her  nameless  hopes  were  called 
Iskander;  from  that  moment  she  could  receive  with 
pride  the  congratulations  of  her  companions,  and,  in  her 
conversations  with  them,  she,  too,  could  speak  of  her 
future  husband. 

As  for  Iskander,  he  did  not  feel  the  earth  under  his 
feet,  and  to  console  himself  for  not  being  allowed  to 
see  his  promised  bride,  he  thought  of  her  incessantly. 

"  She  will  work  here  on  this  rug;  she  will  drink  out 
of  this  cup;  she  will  refresh  her  rosy  cheeks  with  the 
water  from  this  silver  ewer;  she  will  sleep  under  this 
satin  coverlet." 

Into  those  countries  of  the  Caucasus  that  follow  the 
religion  of  Ali,  there  frequently  come  priests  and 
mullahs  from  Persia  to  expound  the  Koran  and  recount 
the  miracles  of  their  imams. 

This,  as  a  rule,  takes  place  in  the  month  of  May. 

Beginning  with  the  first  day  of  this  month,  the 
Shiites  celebrate  the  death  of  Hussein,  All's  son,  who, 
after  the  death  of  his  father,  rebelled  against  Yazid, 
son  of  Moawyah,  with  the  intention  of  seizing  the 
caliphate;  but  engaging  in  battle  with  Obaid  Allah, 
Yazid's  general,  he  was  killed  in  the  combat.  The 
Shiites  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  this  event  with  great 
splendor.  The  fete  takes  place  at  night,  by  the  light  of 
numberless  torches;  and  this  time,  coming  from  Tabbas 
to  direct  the  fete,  Mullah  Sedek  had  remained  in  Der- 
bend  throughout  the  entire  month  of  May. 

Mullah  Sedek  was  a  man  of  forty  years,  affecting 
extreme  dignity,  for  which  reason  he  walked  as  slowly  as 
a  man  of  seventy ,  —  in  a  word,  for  twenty  paces  round 
him  he  exhaled  the  odor  of  sanctity  and  attar  of  rose. 

And  yet,  while  Sedek's  eyes  were  raised  to  heaven, 
he  never  quite  lost  sight  of  earth.     He  had  few  friends  j 


110  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

but  as  soon  as  a  man  came  to  him  with  money  in  his 
hand,  that  man  found  a  welcome.  He  had  reaped  a  rich 
harvest  of  presents  at  Derbend,  but  it  was  his  desire  to 
carry  away  something  else  besides  money  and  jewels. 
He  thought  of  marrying,  and  after  having  secured  in* 
formation  as  to  the  best  matches  in  the  city,  he  made 
overtures  to  Hadji  Festahli,  with  respect  to  his  niece, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  richly  endowed. 

He  began  his  overtures  by  flattering  Hadji  Festahli, 
and  as  vanity  was  the  weakness  of  Kassime's  uncle, 
S^dek  had,  in  a  short  time,  come  to  be  his  most  inti- 
mate friend. 

"  Ah,"  said  S^dek,  **  the  end  of  the  world  is  not  far 
distant  now.  Houtte,  the  fish  on  whose  back  the  uni- 
verse rests,  is  weary  of  bearing,  along  with  the  weight 
of  men,  the  otherwise  heavy  burden  of  their  sins.  The 
Mussulmans  are  corrupt:  they  worship  money;  they 
wear  decorations  in  their  button-holes  and  ribbons  of 
many  colors  on  their  swords.  Truly,  I  know  not  what 
would  have  become  of  Derbend  when  she  was  threatened 
by  the  Lord,  if  you  had  not  been  there  to  act  with  your 
virtues  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  crimes  of  the  people. 
You  are  a  pure  man,  a  respectable  man,  a  holy  man,  a 
true  Shiite ;  you  are  in  league  with  neither  the  Armenians 
nor  the  Russians.  The  only  thing  I  will  not  and  can- 
not believe  is  that  you  are  marrying  your  niece  to  this 
wretched  Iskander,  who  is  as  poor  as  a  dervish's  dog. 
When  I  heard  that  report  I  said  to  myself:  '  It  is  not 
possible  I  A  man  like  Hadji  Festahli  would  not  cast 
the  pearl  of  the  prophet  into  the  mud;  he  will  not  give 
his  brother's  daughter  to  the  first-comer.'  No,  I  am 
sure  it  is  either  a  lie  or  a  jest.** 

"  And  yet,  it  is  the  truth,"  admitted  Festahli,  quite 
embarrassed. 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  Ill 

And  he  told  Sedek  the  whole  story;  how  Iskander 
had  made  his  conditions,  and  how  he  himself  had  been 
obliged  to  consent  to  this  marriage. 

"  I  can  say  with  truth,"  he  added,  *'  that  there  are  in 
Derbend  no  eligible  young  men  with  fortunes;  the  rich 
men,  as  if  by  a  curse,  are  all  old." 

Mullah  Sedek  stroked  his  beard  and  said:  "All  is 
from  Allah!  all  shall  return  to  Allah!  Are  there  no 
true  worshippers  of  Hussein  in  the  land  of  Iran  1  The 
sun  rises  and  sets  twice  each  day  in  the  great  king's 
empire,  and  there  is  where  you  should  choose  a  husband 
for  your  niece.  0  holy  prophet,  if  you  would  mate  the 
moon  with  one  of  the  most  glorious  stars  of  heaven,  I 
will  send  you  my  nephew,  Mir  Heroulah  Tebris.  He 
is  intelligent  and  handsome;  he  is  so  rich  that  he  does 
not  know  the  number  of  his  pearls  and  diamonds,  and 
yet  he  is  as  shy  and  modest  as  a  girl.  When  he  passes 
through  the  bazaar,  every  one  bows,  and  it  is  who  shall 
provide  him  with  fruits,  with  cakes,  with  raisins. 
There  is  no  danger  of  a  single  visitor's  presenting  him- 
self at  his  house  without  a  present.  If  ever  your  niece 
becomes  his  wife,  you  can  rest  assured  that  she  will 
have  the  first  place  in  the  baths  of  Tabbas. " 

This  proposition  was  all  the  more  pleasing  to  Festahli 
as  it  must  destroy  the  hopes  of  Iskander,  whom  he  could 
not  endure. 

However,  he  had  scruples  against  thus  breaking  a 
sacred  promise. 

He  therefore  told  Sedek  that  if  such  a  transaction 
could  be  brought  about,  he  would  be  rendered  the 
proudest  and  happiest  man  in  the  world;  but  it  was  to 
be  feared  that  Kassirae's  mother  might  not  approve. 
Then,  too,  the  commandant  of  Derbend  would  certainly 
not  permit  a  native  of  his  own  town,  and  consequently  a 


112  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Russian,  to  wed  a  Persian.  And,  besides,  what  wo\ild 
the  people  of  Derbend  say  1 

"  What  will  people  say?"  has  some  weight  in  Paris 
or  at  Saint  Petersburg ;  but  on  the  shores  of  the  Caspian 
Sea,  in  the  Orient,  it  is  an  afterthought  of  one  who  has 
forgotten  his  first. 

"  *  What  will  they  say  1 ' "  replied  S^ek,  bonteringly. 
"  Why,  they  will  say  that  you  are  a  man  of  judgment! 
To  commit  faults  is  pardonable,  —  to  repair  them,  praise- 
worthy ;  and,  to  be  frank,  what  has  this  Iskander  done 
that  is  so  wonderful  ?  Do  you  really  believe  that  his 
snow  brought  the  raint  Let  me  manage  the  thing,  and 
I  will  show  you  how  this  affair  can  be  arranged.  In 
the  meantime,  give  out  that  your  sister  is  dangerously 
ill,  and  that,  in  fear  of  death,  she  has  sworn  to  marry 
her  daughter  to  none  but  a  descendant  of  the  prophet, 
to  an  im£Cm.  Your  sister  never  leaves  her  room;  in 
her  room,  even,  she  is  as  dumb  as  a  fish:  do  not  consult 
her.  Have  you  not  read  in  the  sacred  books  how  Job 
beat  his  wife  when  she  counselled  him  to  make  friends 
with  the  devilt  Besides,  is  Kassime's  mother  your 
wifeT  What  is  she  to  youl  A  sister;  that  is  all. 
Then  spit  upon  her  caprices." 

"  And  the  commandant  1 "  said  Festahli,  smiling. 

"  What  can  the  commandant  dot  And  then,  cannot 
the  commandant  be  tricked  f  What  hinders  your  getting 
a  passport  to  go  to  see  your  relatives  in  Persia  t " 

Festahli  consented,  or  rather,  he  had  already  con> 
sented  long  before. 

The  next  day  they  sent  back  to  Iskander  the  kttlmit 
or  wedding-present,  which  he  had  already  given  to  his 
betrothed. 

The  young  man,  not  being  able  to  tear  his  hair,  very 
nearly  tore  off  his  ears.     For  a  long  time  he  could  not 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  113 

believe  in  this  insult.  But  the  bag,  with  the  money  it 
contained,  was  certainly  there,  under  his  very  eyes. 
The  old  aunt  could  make  nothing  of  it,  and  she  pitied 
him  with  all  her  soul. 

Iskander  was  overwhelmed. 

He  reviewed  in  his  mind  every  means  of  avenging 
himself  on  Festahli  without  breaking  the  Russian  laws. 
Ah !  if  there  had  been  a  khan  at  Derbend  instead  of  a 
colonel!  One  thrust  of  a  dagger,  all  would  have  been 
said,  and  Kassime  would  be  his  own. 

But  he  must  not  think  of  such  a  measure ,  expeditious 
though  it  was. 

Iskander  became  moody,  and  spoke  no  more  than  a* 
dead  man.  He  did  not  see  Hadji  Yussef ,  who  had  been 
standing  in  front  of  him  a  long  time. 

Apart  from  his  cowardice  and  lying,  Hadji  Yussef 
was  truly  an  excellent  man.  He  was  really  moved  by 
his  friend's  grief;  he  would  have  wept,  had  he  known 
how. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  my  dear  Iskander?"  he 
asked. 

"  What  is  the  matter  yourself  ?  what  do  you  want  of 
me  ?  "  demanded  Iskander,  frowning. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  three  vessels  loaded  with 
grain  have  arrived,  and  the  people  are  well  pleased.  It 
is  good  news,  Iskander," 

"  If  you  had  come  to  tell  me  that  three  vessels  loaded 
with  poison  had  arrived,  the  news  would  be  better 
still." 

"  Oh !  oh !  it  is  cloudy  weather,  is  it  ?  Come ,  tell 
me  what  vexes  you." 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  1  As  if  you  did  not  know 
already.  As  if  all  Derbend  did  not  know,  for  that 
matter. " 

8 


U4  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

**  Is  it  true  that  Kassime's  mother  refuses  you  for  a 
son-in-law  1 " 

"Her  mother! " 

Iskander  burst  into  a  laugh  that  made  Tussef  shiver. 

"  Her  mother  t  No;  it  is  that  wretch,  Festahli/'said 
he;  "but  I  will  kill  him!" 

"  It  is  easily  seen  that  you  have  eaten  bread  on  the 
mountains,  my  poor  Iskander.  It  is  not  difficult  to  kill 
B  man  and  run  away;  but,  to  the  end  of  life,  all  thought 
of  returning  to  one's  native  town  must  be  given  up. 
For  my  part,  I  advise  you  to  content  yourself  with  a 
good  drubbing;  afterwards,  you  can  tranquilly  retire  to 
Baku.  If  you  absolutely  wish  to  take  a  wife,  well,  you 
can  get  married  there  for  three  months ;  it  will  cost  you 
twenty-five  roubles.  It  is  a  magnificent  invention,  espe- 
cially for  travellers,  that  sort  of  marriage.  I  have  tried 
it.  I  was  married  one  day,  just  as  I  am,  for  six  weeks 
only.  I  lacked  the  patience  to  serve  out  my  time;  I 
ran  away  at  the  end  of  a  month.  When  asleep,  I  was 
in  constant  fear  lest  my  wife  should  bite  off  my  nose, 
she  was  so  crabbed  and  spiteful.  Try  it,  and  I  will 
wager  that  on  your  return  you  will  bring  me  a  present 
by  way  of  thanks. " 

Iskander  continued  pensive  and  silent. 

"  My  dear  heart,  my  handsome  lily,  my  proud  palm, 
Iskander,"  resumed  Hadji  Yussef,  "  do  you  not  hear  me  t 
are  your  ears  full  of  water t  A  bride!  i'  faith,  a  little 
matter  that,  a  bride!  Take  a  handful  of  roubles,  go 
and  show  them  in  the  Derbend  market,  crying,  *  A 
bride!  a  bride! '  and  brides  will  flock  around  you  like 
chickens." 

Iskander  still  maintained  silence. 

"  But  what  is  there  about  it,  then,  to  grieve  you  so, 
lakander.    The  devil !  that  Kassime  of  yours  is  no  star. 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  115 

In  the  first  place,  one  of  her  eyes  is  larger  than  the 
other,  and  then  she  is  so  hlack  that  she  will  ruin  you 
in  the  one  item  of  Spanish  white.  I  can  even  add  that 
she  is  slightly  hump-backed.  Don't  contradict  me,  I 
know  her,  I  have  seen  her." 

Iskander  heard  this  time;  he  seized  Yussef  by  the 
throat. 

"  You  have  seen  her !  Where  have  you  seen  her  1  how 
did  you  see  her?  when?  in  what  place  did  you  dare 
raise  your  basilisk  eyes  to  her  ?  Why  don't  you  answer 
me ,  wretch  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  answer  you?  you  are  choking  me!  Oh! 
in  Allah's  name,  let  me  go!  Can't  you  see  that  I  am 
joking?  You  know  very  well  that  I  keep  my  eyes  in 
my  pockets,  and  my  pockets  have  no  holes,  thank  God! 
And  when  could  I  have  seen  her,  why  should  I  have 
looked  at  her  ?  Do  I  not  know  that  she  is  the  promised 
bride  of  my  best  friend?  Never  marry,  Iskander;  you 
are  really  too  jealous  for  a  man  that  is  on  good  terms 
with  the  Russians.  You  would  be  obliged  to  stand 
guard  all  night,  and  to  spy  all  day  upon  those  who  came 
to  visit  you.  For  that  matter,  I  cannot  see  how  they 
manage,  these  devils  of  Russians;  they  are  not  in  the 
city  ten  days  before  they  have  already  made  friends  with 
every  one  of  our  beauties.  You  know  Mullah  Kasim  ? 
—  bless  God;  but  he  is  jealous,  that  fellow;  well,  he 
bought  himself  a  charming  wife.  As  he  had  paid 
dearly  enough  for  her,  he  determined  to  keep  her  to 
himself.  His  wife  had  but  one  friend  in  the  world,  — 
a  woman  could  not  have  less.  Three  times  a  week  the 
friend  came  to  Mullah  Kasim's  house;  he  himself  con- 
ducted her  to  his  wife  and  stood  guard  at  the  gate ,  lest 
the  two  women  should  come  upon  the  balcony  and  look 
down  into  the  street.     Do  you  know  who  that  friend 


116  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

was  t  It  was  a  young  Russian  ensign  who  had  as  yet 
no  board." 

Iskandfir  clutched  Yussef's  arm,  but  not  in  anger  this 
time. 

"  A  man  dressed  as  a  woman  t  "  said  he.  "  Yes,  that 
luiglit  really  be  possible  indeed.  Thanks  for  your  story, 
Yussef ;  it  is  very  amusing." 

"  That  is  right.  Well ,  now  that  you  are  in  a  better 
humor,  I  will  leave  you.  I  have  a  heap  of  business. 
This  evening  I  represent  the  French  ambassador  at 
Yazid's  court.  I  must  try  on  my  tight  trousers;  I  am 
afraid  1  shall  not  be  able  to  get  into  them.  May  the 
devil  make  himself  a  jacket  of  a  Russian's  skin  for 
having  thought  of  inventing  these  damned  pantaloons  ! 
Now,  if  I  meet  a  cock,  he  may  as  well  stand  still,  —  I 
shall  get  his  tail  for  a  plume.  You  will  see,  Iskander, 
how  haughty  I  shall  be  when  I  appear  on  the  scene. 
Every  soldier  greets  me  with :  '  We  hope  you  are  in  good 
health,  your  Highness.'  Adieu!  I  have  no  time  to 
lose  if  I  wish  to  be  admitted." 

And  Yussef  departed,  throwing  the  sleeves  of  his 
tchouka  back  over  his  shouldersj  that  he  might  walk 
the  faster. 

Iskander  sat  alone,  pensive,  but  smiling  in  his  revery. 
The  anecdote  related  by  Yussef  had  given  rise,  in  the 
midst  of  his  garrulity,  to  an  idea  which  was  nothing  less 
than  to  take  advantage  of  the  ffite  which  they  were  then 
celebrating,  —  a  kind  of  Mussulman  carnival,  —  to  dis* 
guise  himself  as  a  woman  and  approach  Knssime. 

Let  us  say  forthwith  that  nothing  adapts  itself  to  such 
%  disguise  more  readily  than  the  Tartar  costume,  with 
its  wide  trousers,  arkalouke,  and  immense  veil. 

After  he  had  decided  upon  this  step,  Iskander  ceased 
to  despair. 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  117 

"Ah,  I  shall  see  her,"  said  he,  "and  she  shall  he 

mine!  Then,  Festahli,  you  shall  know  what  it  means 
to  awaken  a  tiger.  Kassime,  Kassime ,  expect  Iskander, 
even  if  the  road  between  us  were  paved  with  daggers !  " 

And,  on  the  instant,  Iskander  set  off  for  the  bazaar, 
and  purchased  a  woman's  complete  costume,  pretending 
that  it  was  a  present  for  his  fiancee. 

Returning  home,  he  despatched  his  noukar,  whose 
indiscretion  he  feared,  to  the  meadow  with  the  horses; 
then,  as  soon  as  the  noukar  was  gone,  he  shaved  off  all 
his  beard,  which,  for  the  matter  of  that  was  barely 
beginning  to  grow;  he  stained  his  eyelids,  painted  his 
brows,  put  on  some  rouge  and  donned  the  trousers, 
arkalouke  and  veil ;  he  practised  the  gait  of  the  Tartar 
women  in  his  new  costume,  retaining  his  bechemette  so 
that  he  might  be  in  masculine  attire  in  case  of  necessity 
for  attack  or  defence. 

He  awaited  the  evening  impatiently;  but  the  day, 
like  a  rich  uncle,  could  not  make  up  its  mind  to  die. 

At  last,  the  gong  beat  for  prayer,  and  the  theatre 
was  lighted. 

Then  Iskander  placed  on  his  cheeks  two  indispensable 
little  spangles  of  gold,  slipped  his  kandjiar  into  his 
girdle  on  one  side  and  his  pistol  on  the  other,  enveloped 
himself  from  head  to  foot  in  an  immense  white  veil, 
and  set  out,  carrying  a  little  lantern  in  his  hand. 

At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Kassime  issued 
forth  with  two  friends;  all  three  were  on  their  way  to 
see  the  religious  drama  which  was  being  enacted  at 
Derbend  in  honor  of  the  death  of  Hussein,  and  which 
very  much  resembles  the  Mysteries  which  the  Brothers 
of  the  Passion  used  to  perform  in  France  during  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Both  streets  and  public  squares  were  full  of  people 


118  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

afoot  and  on  horses ;  for  it  is  remarkable  that  at  out-of- 
door  performances  in  the  Orient,  no  matter  how  crowded 
the  spectators  may  be,  at  least  a  third  of  them  is  on 
horseback.  This  thinl  circulates  about,  goes  and  comes 
without  concerning  itself  as  to  the  feet  it  crushes  or  the 
shoulders  it  injures.  It  is  the  pedestrian's  business  to 
get  out  of  the  way  and  take  care  of  himself.  His  only 
due  is  the  Circassian  warning,  "  Kaharda  !  karbarda  !  " 
uttered  from  time  to  time,  and  equivalent  to  our  own 
"lookout,  there!" 

The  house-tops,  the  only  points  inaccessible  to  the 
horsemen,  were  covered  with  women  enveloped  in  long 
veils  of  every  color. 

The  play  had  not  yet  begun.  Upon  the  stage  fitted 
up  for  the  presentation  of  *  Yazid,"  the  name  of  the 
tragedy,  I^lullah  Sedek,  between  two  other  Mussulmans, 
was  reading  the  prologue,  and,  at  the  pathetic  places, 
he  interrupted  himself  to  cry  to  the  spectators,  "  Weep 
and  wail,  0  ye  people!  "  The  people  responded  to  the 
apostrophe  with  groans  and  lamentations. 

Utterly  reckless,  Iskander,  who  had  followed  Kassime, 
climbed  after  her  up  the  small  staircase  which  led  them 
to  the  roof  of  a  house  which  was  already  covered  by  a 
throng  of  Moslem  women  irradiated  by  numerous  torches. 

The  women  embraced  as  they  met  and  recognized  each 
other,  laughing  and  talking  with  ceaseless  babble. 

All  were  richly  dressed,  and  adorned  with  gold  and 
silver  necklaces,  and  each  exhibited  to  the  others,  as 
rival  to  rival  rather  than  as  friend  to  friend,  the  finery 
which  she  was  wearing  for  the  first  time. 

One  who  has  had  no  experience  of  the  Asiatic  woman 
does  not  know,  and  never  will  know,  the  half  of  an 
Asiatic  man,  should  he  live  with  him  many  years.  In 
the  presence  of  unbelievers,  the  followers  of  the  prophet 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  119 

eternally  wear  a  mask,  and,  outside  of  the  harem,  the 
Oriental  man  never  shows  to  his  own  brother  either  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  or  the  depths  of  his  purse.  All 
nations  have  the  same  ruling  passion,  —  that  of  vaunt- 
ing their  own  customs.  The  Mussulmans  are  addicted 
to  this  more  than  any  other  people.  If  their  word  is 
to  be  accepted,  you  can  regard  them  every  one  as  saints. 
According  to  them,  husbands  and  wives  in  the  perform- 
ance of  their  duties  walk  between  the  lines  of  the  Koran 
and  never  step  aside  either  to  right  or  left.  Only  within 
his  home  does  the  Mussulman  show  himself  as  he  is; 
it  is  because  he  has  to  render  no  account  of  his  con- 
duct to  either  wife  or  children.  The  wife,  contrariwise, 
is  quite  free  in  her  husband's  absence.  No  sooner  has 
she  seen  the  heels  of  his  slippers,  than  she  becomes  un- 
recognizable. Speechless  and  humble  before  him,  she 
becomes  garrulous,  boastful, 'shameless  even  before  her 
female  companions,  with  whom  she  is  always  sincere, 
as  jealousy  exists  among  the  women  of  the  Orient  only 
in  matters  of  costliness  of  apparel  and  value  of  gems. 

Hence  arises  a  double  life  entirely  foreign  to  that  of 
Europe,  whose  nature  this  book  will  be  at  least  one  of 
the  first  to  signalize  and  impress,  —  a  life  less  accessible 
even  to  men  than  to  women,  because  man  constantly 
reveals  himself  to  woman,  woman  to  man,  never. 

Now,  suppose  that  in  some  way,  — what  way  1  that  is 
not  my  affair,  —  suppose  that  in  some  way  you  are  in 
the  company  of  a  Moslem  woman;  suppose  that  you 
have  penetrated  to  the  bath  and  listened  to  her  prattle 
with  a  friend;  that  you  have  entered  the  harem  and 
seen  her  romp  —  it  is  the  only  word  that  presents  itself 
to  my  pen  —  romp,  I  say,  with  her  companions;  clearly, 
you  will  learn  more  yourself  than  a  Mussulman  would 
ever  tell  you,  more  than  he  himself  will  know. 


120  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Judge,  then,  of  Iskander's  astonishment  when  he 
found  himself  surrounded  by  feminine  indiscretions. 
Lost  in  a  flock  of  young  women,  pretty  and  talkative, 

—  he  who  had  never  spoken  to  a  woman  who  had  not 
passed  her  sixtieth  year,  — his  eyes  devoured  them;  he 
was  eager  to  hear  every  word  that  they  were  saying. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  what  a  pretty  coiffure  you  have!  My 
stingy  old  husband  has  been  to  Snizily,  and  he  brought 
me  back  some  embroidered  trousers.  I  am  wrong  tu 
call  him  stingy,  for  he  is  not  so  with  me;  he  refuses 
me  nothing  that  I  ask  of  him.  It  is  true  that  he  is 
very  exacting,  and  that,  for  my  part,  I  do  just  as  he 
wishes. " 

"  Do  you  know,  Fatima,"  said  another,  "  that  my  old 
ape  of  a  husband  has  taken  a  second  wife  at  Baku?  I 
began  to  weep  and  reproach  him.  Guess  what  he 
answered  me?  *  Can  I  go  without  rice? '  Oh!  I  shall 
have  my  revenge.  He  takes  a  second  wife,  the  old 
rascal,  and  is  in  no  condition  to  ol^serve  Saturday  with 
me.  Not  he,  my  dear,  no.  It  is  incredible,  is  it  not? 
But  that  is  the  way.  By  the  by,  do  you  know  that  a 
ukase  has  been  issued  in  Russia  ordering  the  women  to 
wear  trousers  ?  I  have  myself  seen  ladies  in  Derbend 
with  white  trousers  all  embroidered  and  open-worked. 

—  It  was  high  time!  They  were  scandalous  to  behold 
when  the  wind  blew." 

"Oh!  how  good  that  soap  is  you  gave  me,  my  dear 
Shekerl  "  said  a  third;  *  and  how  grateful  I  am  to  you 
for  it!  Fancy,  since  using  that,  my  skin  has  become 
like  satin." 

"Ah,  well,  yes,  she  is  dead,**  a  fourth  was  saying; 
"  he  killed  her,  so  much  the  worse  for  her.  When  she 
fell  in  love  with  some  one  else,  she  ought  to  have  known 
how  to  keep  it  to  herself.     As  soon  as  her  husband  left 


TWO   HOLY  MEN.  / 121 

the  house,  she  went  visiting,  with  a  lantern,  too.  Faith! 
he  killed  her  in  short  order." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  a  fifth,  "  how  my  children  worry 
me!  I  never  saw  children  grow  so  fast!  To  look  at 
them,  one  would  think  I  was  an  old  woman;  and  they 
have  sore  heads,  besides.  You  understand ;  I  have  never 
had  a  pimple  myself;  it  comes  from  their  father." 

"  Ah!  your  little  children  may  trouble  you  with  their 
heads,  but  mine  trouble  me  with  their  hearts.  Megely 
torments  me  beyond  measure ;  he  will  give  me  no  peace 
until  I  buy  him  a  wife." 

"Ah  well,  buy  one  for  the  boy;  he  is  tall  and 
old  enough  to  have  a  wife.  I  saw  him  pass  just 
yesterday. " 

"  You  are  a  silly  one,  you  are!  You  talk  as  if  a  wife 
called  for  two  kopecks.  A  wife  costs  something.  Where 
shall  I  get  the  money,  pray  ?  " 

"Ah!  "  cried  a  sixth,  "  what  a  shame!  and  you  say, 
my  dear,  that  she  is  with  an  Armenian  ?  Are  there  no 
more  Mussulmans  or  Russians,  then  1  " 

"  How  kind  my  husband  is!  if  you  but  knew,"  said  a 
seventh ;  "  and  he  is  so  handsome !  he  might  be  taken 
for  the  prophet  himself,  and  although  large  —  " 

Iskander  listened  so  intently  that  he  almost  forgot 
why  he  was  there.  But  the  cries,  "  They  are  beginning ! 
they  are  beginning!  "  put  an  end  to  all  chattering. 

Each  turned  to  the  stage  and  gave  her  attention  to 
the  play.  Yazid,  in  red  caftan  and  green  turban,  was 
seated  on  his  throne.  Below  him,  at  his  left,  standing 
on  the  fourth  step  of  his  throne,  was  the  European 
ambassador,  represented  by  Yussef  in  a  fantastic  costume , 
whose  conspicuous  features  consisted  of  a  three-cornered 
hat  surmounted  by  an  immense  plume,  an  enormous 
sword,  and  spurs  six  inches  long. 


122  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Yazid's  suite,  composed  of  white-turbaned  super- 
numeraries, formed  a  semi-circle  alx)ut  liis  throne. 

But  not  Yazid's  self  u|)on  his  throne,  not  the  magni- 
ficent white-turbaned  suite,  produced  an  effect  to  be 
compared  with  that  of  Yussef,  with  a  hat  that  wouhl  not 
keep  its  balance  on  his  shaven  pate,  a  sword  bo  knew 
not  where  to  put,  and  spurs  that  tore  the  trousers  of  the 
noblest  and  gravest  lords  of  Yazid's  court. 

But  what  especially  excited  great  hilarity  among  the 
men,  and  the  liveliest  discussion  among  the  women,  was 
that  gigantic  nose  and  that  colossal  plume. 

"  Oh,  look,  sister,"  said  a  little  girl  of  rank,  "look 
at  that  creature  beside  Yazid !  What  kind  of  beast  does 
he  represent  ? " 

"That  is  a  lion,  you  silly  child,"  responded  the 
sister.  "  Did  you  not  know  that  the  abominable  tyrant, 
Yazid,  that  brute  among  caliphs,  always  had  a  lion  near 
himt  If  any  one  incurred  his  displeasure,  he  was 
thrown  to  the  lion,  who  ate  him  up.  Come,  listen, 
there  is  Yazid  saying  to  Hussein,  *  Adopt  my  religion 
or  you  shall  die ! '  Hussein  sneezes,  which  signifies, 
*  I  will  not. '  " 

"  That 's  not  a  lion,"  pursued  the  insistent  little  one; 
"  lions  have  n't  beaks ;  it 's  a  bird. " 

"  A  bird  with  a  tail  on  his  head !  Have  you  ever 
seen  birds  with  tails  on  their  heads  ? " 

"  Yes ;  it 's  a  top-knot. " 

"It's  a  mane." 

"  The  child  is  right,"  said  a  third,  entering  upon  the 
discussion.  "  Can  you  not  see  that  it  is  a  parrot  7  This 
parrot  was  interpreting  secretary  at  Yazid's  court  Do 
you  not  see  how  the  caliph  caresses  him  7  " 

*  Then  why  does  he  shout  like  the  devil  ?  " 

"Oh,  do  keep  still,  now,  parrots  of  nieces  that  you 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  123 

are ! "  said  a  good  Tartar  dame  weighing  one  hundred 
and  fifty  kilogrammes,  and  occupying  the  space  of  four 
ordinary  people,  with  whom  listening  for  herself  was 
like  listening  for  a  whole  society. 

The  dispute  became  general  at  this  juncture.  Some 
continued  to  maintain  that  it  was  a  lion,  others  con- 
tended that  it  was  a  bird ;  but  Yussef  ought  to  have  felt 
highly  flattered  that  the  general  opinion  held  him  to  be 
some  sort  of  an  animal. 

He,  little  suspecting  the  flutter  which  he  heard  to  be 
occasioned  by  his  own  nose  and  feathers,  was  discoursing 
meanwhile  with  the  tyrant. 

"My  king,"  he  was  saying,  "the  ruler  of  France, 
having  heard  of  your  conquests,  sends  me  to  ofier  you 
his  friendship. " 

Yazid  answered :  "  Let  your  king  cease  to  eat  pork, 
let  him  forbid  his  allies  to  eat  it,  and  let  him  order 
them  to  become  Mussulmans." 

"  But  if  his  friends  refuse  ?  "  replied  the  ambassador. 

"  Then  let  him  introduce  my  system. " 

"  Let  us  see  your  system,"  demanded  the  ambassador. 

"Bring  me  my- system,"  said  Yazid. 

An  executioner  entered,  naked  sword  in  hand. 

Yussef  shook  his  head. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  1 "  demanded  Yazid. 

"I  mean,  great  prince,  that  your  system  would  not 
succeed  in  Europe." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  it  would  be  impossible  to  cut  off  a  European's 
head  as  you  would  an  Arab's. " 

"  Impossible  1 "  said  Yazid.  "  You  shall  see  whether 
it  is  impossible." 

And,  turning  to  his  guards  and  the  executioner,  he 
commanded, — 


124  THB  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  Take  the  European  ambassador  and  cut  off  his  head, 
that  }ic  may  see  that  my  system  is  adapted  to  every 
country. " 

Guards  and  executioner  advanced  towards  Tussef ;  but 
he  had  so  recently  taken  part  in  a  similar  drama  with 
Mullah  Nour,  that  fact  and  fancy  became  confused  in 
mind  and  sight ;  when  he  saw  the  guards  about  to  lay 
hands  on  him,  he  wanted  to  run  away;  when  he  saw 
the  executioner  raise  his  sword,  he  emitted  piercing 
shrieks.  He  was  arrested  when  about  to  leap  from  the 
stage  into  the  street,  and  brought  back  amid  the  frantio 
applause  of  the  multitude,  who  had  never  seen  terror 
simulated  with  such  fidelity. 

He  was  still  heard  calling  Iskander  to  his  rescue  long 
after  he  had  gone  behind  the  scenes. 

But  Iskander  had  quite  another  affair  on  hand. 

Iskander  had  at  last  got  next  to  Kassime.  He  could 
scarcely  breathe  for  joy;  his  heart  was  burning;  he  felt 
the  warmth  of  Kassime's  cheeks;  he  inhaled  the  per- 
fume of  her  breath. 

What  could  you  expect?  He  was  in  love;  he  was 
twenty  years  old ;  he  loved  for  the  first  time. 

But  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer  when,  in 
shifting  her  position  to  be  more  at  her  ease,  Kassime 
leaned  her  hand  on  his  knee. 

**  Kassime,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  I  must  speak 
with  you." 

And  he  gently  pressed  her  hand. 

The  young  girl's  heart  and  head  were  full  of  Iskander; 
she  was  hoping  to  see  him  at  this  fete,  at  which  all 
Derbend  was  present.  She  had  not  come  for  Yazld's 
sake;  no  caliph's  executioner  was  occupying  her  mind. 

Her  eyes  had  searched  for  Iskander  on  all  sides,  but 
he  was  nowhere  to  bo  seen. 


TWO  HOLY  MEN.  125 

Imagine,  then,  her  amazement,  fancy  her  joy  when 
she  heard  in  her  ear  that  well-known,  that  beloved 
voice  ! 

She  had  not  the  strength  to  resist. 

Iskander  rose ;  she  followed  him.  He  led  her  to  the 
,  darkest  corner  of  the  roof. 

Those  around  were  so  occupied  with  Yazid  that  there 
was  nothing  to  fear. 

Yet  Iskander  understood  that  he  had  no  time  to 
lose. 

"  Kassime,"  said  he,  "  do  you  know  how  I  love  you? 
do  you  know  how  I  worship  you  1  You  see  what  I  have 
risked  for  the  sake  of  seeing  you  for  one  moment,  for 
the  sake  of  saying  a  few  words  to  you.  Then  consider 
what  I  am  capable  of  doing  if  you  say,  '  Iskander,  I 
love  you  not.'     Yes,  or  no,  Kassime?  yes,  or  no?  " 

Iskander's  eyes  flashed  lightnings  through  his  veil; 
his  left  hand  pressed  Kassime's  waist,  his  right  rested 
on  his  pistol.  The  poor  child  trembled  as  she  looked 
about  her. 

"Iskander,"  said  she,  "I  ask  of  you  but  two  things, 
—  do  not  kill  me,  do  not  disgrace  me !  I  would  gladly 
clasp  you  in  my  arms  as  closely  as  your  sword  belt;  but 
you  know  my  uncle."  ^ 

Then,  urged  on  in  spite  of  herself,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  she  added, — 

"  Iskander,  I  love  you !  " 

And,  like  steel  to  the  magnet,  her  lips  were  drawn  to 
those  of  the  young  man. 

"  And  now,"  said  she,  "  let  me  go." 

"  So  be  it ;  but  on  one  condition,  my  darling,  —  that 
we  meet  here  to-morrow  night." 

Kassime  answered  nothing;  but  the  word  to-morrow 
was  so  clearly  revealed  in  the  look  which  she  gave  her 


126  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

friend  at  parting,  that  Iskander  took  the  rendezvous  for 
granted. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  Kassime  passed  the  night;  but 
Iskander's  sleep  was  very  sweet. 

There  are  some  sins  after  which  we  sleep  better  than 
after  the  best  of  good  works. 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.         127 


XII. 

ACCUSED   AND  ACQUITTED. 

Two  days  after  the  f§te,  there  was  a  large  meeting 
in  the  fortress  of  Narin  Kale,  near  the  commandant's 
nouse. 

Armed  noukars  held  their  masters'  horses  by  the 
bridle;  there  were  people  in  the  courts,  about  the  foun- 
tain, on  the  stairs;  the  salon  was  full  of  visitors,  and 
these  visitors  were  the  leading  people  of  the  town.  At 
the  entrance  door  the  commandant's  interpreter  was 
eagerly  rehearsing  something  extraordinary,  no  doubt, 
for  he  was  listened  to  and  questioned.  Elsewhere, 
they  spoke  in  low  tones.  The  old  men  shrugged  their 
shoulders;  in  short,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  something 
strange  and  out  of  the  common  was  taking  place,  or  had 
already  taken  place. 

"  Yes, "  said  the  interpreter,  "  this  is  exactly  how  the 
thing  was  done.  The  brigands  made  a  hole  in  the  wall 
and  entered  the  room  of  Soliman  Beg.  He  awoke,  but 
only  when  one  of  the  robbers  was  in  the  act  of  taking 
down  the  arms  that  hung  above  his  head.  Soliman 
then  drew  a  pistol  from  under  his  pillow  and  fired,  but 
the  ball  hit  no  one.  Meanwhile,  two  or  three  other 
bandits  were  binding  his  wife  in  a  neighboring  room. 
Hearing  the  shot,  they  rushed  out  and  came  to  the  aid 
of  the  two  who  were  in  Soliman's  room.  The  darkness 
interfered  with  the  effectiveness  of  his  shots,  yet  Soliman 
wounded  two  or  three  of  the  bandits;  however,  he  him- 


128  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

self  fell  dead  under  four  or  five  dagger- thrusts.  The 
shooting,  and  the  cries  of  Soli  man  and  his  wife,  awoke 
the  neighbors;  but  while  they  were  dressing,  lighting 
their  lanterns,  and  rushing  to  Soliman's  house,  the 
robbers  had  broken  into  his  coffers  and  emptied  them, 
and  they  were  gone  without  having  been  seen,  and, 
consequently,  without  a  single  one's  having  been 
identified." 

"  So  not  one  of  the  knaves  has  been  arrested  ? "  de- 
manded a  new-comer. 

"  No ;  and  yet  it  is  believed  that  an  accomplice  is 
caught." 

"  An  accomplice  1 " 

*  Yes ;  he  had  been  stationed  as  a  watch ;  he  had  a 
rope  around  him,  for  the  purpose  no  doubt  of  aiding  his 
comrades  in  scaling  the  wall.  He  carried  a  pistol  and 
a  dagger  in  his  belt;  but  it  must  be  admitted  that,  as  a 
beg,  he  had  a  right  to  carry  arms." 

"  What  I  a  beg?  Hut  it  is  impossible  that  a  beg 
should  be  an  accomplice  of  thieves!"  cried  several 
voices  at  once. 

"  And  why  is  it  impossible?"  replied  a  mirza,  cast- 
ing around  him  the  scoffing  glance  so  much  affected  by 
Tartar  youths. 

"  Yes ;  but  this  one  is  really  a  beg  belonging  to  one 
of  the  best  families  in  Derbend,  and  you  will  indeed  be 
astonished  when  1  tell  you  his  name.  It  is  Iskander 
Ben  Kalfasi  Ogli.  Wait,  at  this  very  moment  the 
commandant  is  reading  the  report  of  the  chief  of  police, 
and  you  will  presently  see  Iskander;  an  order  has  been 
given  to  bring  him  here." 

In  fact,  the  news  astonished  everybody.  Iskander 
was  greatly  pitied.  How  could  a  young  man  whose 
conduct  was  so  irreproachable,  who  had  been  chosen  to 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.  129 

bring  the  snow  from  Schach  Dagh,  be  the  accomplice  of 
such  bandits  ? 

The  commandant's  entrance  put  a  stop  to  all  discus- 
sion, and  a  profound  silence  was  established.  He  was 
one  of  those  men  who  thoroughly  understand  the  Asiatic 
character.  He  was  discriminately  affable,  the  better  to 
make  his  affability  appreciated,  severe  without  the  rude- 
ness that  envenoms  justice,  even  when  she  is  just. 

He  entered  the  salon  in  full  uniform. 

All  the  by-standers  saluted  him,  placing  their  hands 
over  their  hearts  and  letting  them  fall  to  the  knee. 

The  commandant  bowed  to  all,  and  spoke  briefly  on 
current  matters.  Some  he  gently  chided  for  inefficient 
service;  others  he  thanked  for  having  performed  their 
duties  conscientiously ;  he  pressed  the  hands  of  some  of 
the  Derbend  freeholders,  —  there  are  freeholders  every- 
where,—  and  invited  two  of  them  to  dine  with  him  the 
next  day. 

Then,  addressing  himself  to  all,  he  said,  — 

"  Gentlemen  begs,  I  suppose  you  all  know  what  took 
place  last  night.  I  have  every  reason  to  think  it  an 
enterprise  of  our  friends  the  mountaineers,  and  not  the 
deed  of  residents  of  Derbend.  I  entreat  you  all  to  do 
your  utmost  to  capture  the  thieves  and  bring  them  before 
me.  Well,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  mirza,  "has  the 
mullah  questioned  Iskander?  In  that  case,  what  has 
the  beg  to  say  1 " 

"  Iskander  naturally  replies  that  he  is  as  innocent 
as  a  new-born  babe  of  this  whole  affair.  He  says  that 
he  carried  the  rope  to  get  outside  of  the  city  for  a  walk, 
and  climb  back  again  whenever  he  pleased,  because,  he 
asserts,  the  air  of  the  city  is  stifling.  As  to  his  arms, 
he  gave  no  other  explanation  than  this:  *  As  a  beg,  I 
have  a  right  to  carry  them. '  " 

9 


130  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  A  singular  walk,  that, "  said  the  commandant,  *  witb 
a  rope  around  the  loins !  and  yet  I  must  say  the  whole 
of  Iskandor's  past  conduct  is  a  protest  against  the  crime 
of  which  he  is  accused.  I  wish  to  see  and  question 
him  myself;  bring  him  in.** 

Iskander  Beg  entered,  his  papak  on  his  head,  accord* 
ing  to  the  Asiatic  custom ;  he  bowed  respectfully  to  the 
commandant,  haughtily  to  the  people,  and  waited  in  the 
place  assigned  to  him. 

The  commandant  regarded  him  coldly.  At  the 
thought  of  being  an  object  of  suspicion,  the  young  beg 
could  not  help  blushing;  but  his  eye  was  steady  and 
clear. 

**  I  little  suspected,  Iskander,**  said  the  commandant, 
"that  I  should  ever  see  you  brought  before  me  as  a 
criminal. " 

"It  is  not  crime,  but  fate,  that  brings  me  here," 
replied  Iskander. 

"  Do  you  know  the  consequences  of  the  crime  of  which 
you  are  accused  1  ** 

"  Only  here  have  I  learned  of  my  supposed  crime.  I 
acknowledge  my  imprudence;  appearances  are  against 
me,  I  am  aware;  but  guilty  1  God  knows  I  am 
not!** 

"  Unfort\mately,  Iskander,"  returned  the  commandant, 
•men  must  be  governed  by  appearances,  and  until  your 
innocence  is  proved,  you  are  in  the  hands  of  justice. 
However,  if  there  is  any  one  here  who  will  answer  for 
you,  I  will  consent  to  your  going  at  liberty." 

Iskander  cast  a  questioning  glance  around;  but  no 
one  offered  to  become  his  surety. 

•  What!  "  said  the  commandant,  "  not  one t " 

*At  your  pleasure,  commandant,"  replied  the  by 
standers,  bowing. 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.  131 

"Well,  I  will  answer  for  him  myself,  and  be  his 
bondsman,"  said  Hadji  Yussef,  coming  forward. 

The  commandant  smiled;  the  lookers-on  laughed 
aloud ;  but  the  commandant  frowned,  and  the  faces  grew 
long. 

"Truly,  I  am  astonished,  gentlemen,"  said  the  com- 
mandant, "  that  you,  who  so  readily  give  bail  for  the 
greatest  rascals  to  be  found  in  our  city,  for  wretches 
who  have  twenty  times  fled  to  the  mountains  after  you 
have  gone  on  their  bonds,  should  hesitate  to  do  as  much 
for  a  young  man  whom,  eight  days  ago,  you  recognized 
as  the  purest  and  most  upright  among  you.  His  good 
reputation  will  not  save  him  from  chastisement;  on  the 
contrary,  if  he  is  guilty,  he  shall  be  severely  punished. 
But  until  he  is  convicted,  he  is  your  compeer,  and  his 
exemplary  life  should  be  respected.  Go  home,  Iskander; 
if  you  had  not  found  security,  I  should  have  served  you 
myself. " 

The  commandant  saluted  the  assembly  and  set  off  for 
the  mosque. 

The  young  beg  went  home,  his  eyes  dimmed  with 
tears  of  gratitude. 

The  morning  sun  gilded  the  porch  of  the  mosque  of 
Derbend.  The  old  men  were  warming  themselves  in 
its  vivifying  rays  as  they  talked  of  bygone  days;  two 
or  three  beggars  had  halted  at  the  entrance  of  the 
court. 

A  few  steps  farther  on,  a  wayfarer  was  sleeping  under 
his  bourka ;  not  far  from  the  traveller  sat  Mullah  Sedek 
on  his  rug. 

The  holy  man  was  ready  to  leave  Derbend  the  next 
morning,  and  was  reckoning  up  from  memory  all  the 
small  profits  by  which  his  journey  had  enriched  him. 
While   mentally  recalling  the    trifling   items,   he  was 


132  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

eating  a  sort  of  pastry  which  he  dipped  into  a  dish  of 
garlic  and  milk.  From  time  to  time  he  plunged  his 
reed  pen  into  a  wooden  ink-bottle,  and  wrote  a  few 
words  on  a  little  scrap  of  paper  that  he  had  beside  him. 
It  was  curious  to  note  with  wliat  appetite  tlie  holy  man 
ate  his  breakfast,  and  with  what  pleasure  he  footed  up 
his  accounts. 

He  was  so  deeply  engrossed  in  this  twofold  enjoy- 
ment that  he  did  not  see  a  poor  Lcsghian  before  him 
liegging  for  alms.  The  wretch  was  asking  for  a  kopeck 
in  such  pitiful  accents  that  it  was  truly  a  crime  to  deny 
him. 

Afullah  S^dek  finally  heard  the  sort  of  litany  that  the 
poor  devil  was  chanting ;  he  raised  his  eyes,  but  almost 
as  quickly  lowered  them  again  to  his  accounts. 

"  For  three  days  I  have  had  nothing  to  eat,  mas- 
ter," the  Lesghian  was  saying,  as  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Ten,  twenty-five,  fifty,  one  hundred,"  counted 
Mullah  S^dek. 

"  A  kopeck  will  save  my  life  and  open  the  gates  of 
Paradise  to  you." 

"One  hundred,  five  hundred,  one  thousand,"  con- 
tinued Mullah  S^dek. 

**  You  are  a  mullah,"  persisted  the  Lesghian;  " recall 
what  the  Koran  says:  '  The  first  duty  of  a  Mussulman 
is  charity.'  " 

Mullah  S^ek  lost  his  patience. 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  "  he  angrily  exclaimed.  "  Was 
it  for  wretches  like  you  that  Allah  invented  charity  ? 
You  have  sticks  in  the  town  and  herbs  in  the  fields. 
When  you  are  strong  enough,  you  rob;  otherwise,  you 
ask  alms,  and  they  are  no  sooner  given  than  you 
laugh  at  the  fool  that  gave.      You  will  get  nothing 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.  133 

from  me;  I  am  a  poor  traveller,  too,  and  all  that  I  had 
has  been  taken  away  by  your  brigand  of  a  Mullah 
Nour." 

The  wayfarer  lying  under  his  bourka,  who  had  not 
said  a  word  until  then,  quietly  raised  himself,  and 
stroking  his  beard  with  his  hand,  he  politely  demanded 
of  Mullah  Sedek, — 

"  Has  Mullah  Nour  been  so  cruel  as  to  leave  you 
absolutely  without  money,  —  a  holy  man  like  you  ?  Yet 
I  have  heard  it  said  that  Mullah  Nour  is  a  conscientious 
man,  and  that  he  rarely  takes  more  than  two  roubles 
from  one  traveller." 

"  Two  roubles!  that  rapacious  Mullah  Nour!  Trust 
yourself  in  his  hands  and  you  will  be  very  lucky  if  he 
does  not  pick  out  your  two  eyes.  Would  that  he  might 
be  struck  down  by  the  destroying  angel,  and  boil  through- 
out all  eternity  in  the  gold  that  he  took  from  me ,  even 
if  I  had  to  melt  the  gold  myself.  Did  he  not  take  even 
my  aba  of  camel's-hair?  " 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  old  men.  "  Mullah  Sedek 
came  to  us  without  an  aba  and  with  only  his  mantle; 
we  have  done  our  best  to  reclothe  him.  Curses  on  this 
Mullah  Nour!  " 

The  wayfarer  with  the  bourka  arose  smiling,  and 
drawing  a  piece  of  gold  from  his  pocket  he  held  it  out 
to  the  Lesghian,  saying,  — 

"  Curse  Mullah  Nour  as  these  honest  men  have  just 
done,  and  this  tchervonies  is  yours." 

The  Lesghian  at  first  extended  his  hand;  but  al- 
most instantly  withdrew  it,  shaking  his  head,  and 
replied,  — 

"No,  Mullah  Nour  has  helped  my  brother  in  mis- 
fortune ,  —  he  gave  him  a  hundred  roubles ;  on  ten  occa- 
sions he  has  aided  my  compatriots.     I  do  not  know  his 


134  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

face,  but  I  know  his  heart.  Keep  your  gold,  I  will 
not  curse  Mullah  Nour.  I  sell  neither  my  benedictions 
nor  my  maledictions." 

The  wayfarer  regarded  the  beggar  with  astonishment, 
and  Mullah  S^dek  with  scorn. 

Then,  drawing  out  four  other  gold  pieces,  which  he 
added  to  the  first,  he  gave  them  all  five  to  the  poor 
Lesghian. 

Thereupon,  resting  one  hand  on  Mullah  Si^dek's 
shoulder,  and  pointing  with  the  other  above  his  head, 
he  said,  — 

"  In  heaven  there  is  a  Grod  of  truth,  and  on  earth  are 
some  good  men." 

After  which,  picking  up  his  bourka,  he  threw  it  over 
his  shoulder,  mounted  his  horse,  which  had  been  tied 
to  the  mosque  wall,  and  slowly  descended  to  the 
bazaar. 

Then,  having  crossed  the  bazaar,  always  at  a  walk, 
he  entered  the  street  in  which  was  to  be  found  the  house 
of  the  chief  of  police. 

This  official  was  at  his  door,  surrounded  by  several 
persons  to  whom  he  was  doling  out  justice;  he  was 
already  old,  but  so  black  did  he  keep  his  beard  that 
he  was  himself  deluded  as  to  his  age,  and  fancied  that 
he  was  at  least  ten  years  younger  than  he  was.  His 
tchourka  was  trimmed  with  lace,  no  more  nor  less  than 
that  of  a  man  of  fashion,  and,  as  a  much  livelier 
reminder  of  his  youth,  he  still  had  four  wives  and  three 
mistresses,  and  drank  several  bottles  of  wine  every 
evening.  In  short,  had  ho  not  worn  spectacles,  had  he 
not  been  as  wrinkled  as  an  old  apple,  had  ho  not  had  a 
paunch  like  a  pumpkin,  one  might  have  believed,  after 
what  ho  himself  had  said,  in  the  youth  of  this  most 
worthy  man. 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.  135 

That  day  his  Excellency  was  in  a  bad  humor;  he 
was  in  a  rage  with  everybody,  and  quarrelled  even  with 
the  passers-by. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  mind  that  he  saw  a  traveller 
dismount  from  his  horse  and  approach  him. 

"  Salaam  Aleikoum,  Mouzaram  Beg!  "  was  the  way- 
farer's greeting. 

The  chief  of  police  shook  as  if  he  had  been  stung  by 
a  scorpion,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  pistol. 

But  the  traveller  bent  down  to  his  ear  and  said,  — 

"  Mouzaram  Beg,  if  I  were  to  give  you  a  bit  of  advice, 
it  would  be  that  you  do  not  meddle  with  old  friends. 
I  have  come,  too,  for  your  own  good;  I  can  do  you  a 
service,  only,  let  us  go  within.  I  can  tell  you  some- 
thing for  which  all  Derbend  will  thank  me.  But  if 
you  make  a  doubtful  sign,  you  know  my  pistol  carries 
a  ball,  and  that  that  ball  goes,  too,  just  where  I  wish  it 
to  go,  as  surely  as  if,  instead  of  placing  it  with  the  eye, 
I  were  to  place  it  with  my  finger.  At  the  first  move, 
then,  I  fire.  I  appear  to  be  alone,  but  do  not  trust  to 
that.  A  dozen  of  my  brave  men  keep  me  in  sight,  and 
at  my  first  summons  they  will  be  here.  Come,  lead 
the  way,  Mouzaram  Beg." 

The  chief  of  police  made  no  protest  and  went  in 
first. 

What  took  place  then  ?  The  interview  was  without 
witnesses;  no  one  can  tell. 

We  know  only  that  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  enter- 
ing, the  unknown  came  out,  calmly  mounted  his  horse, 
threw  a  silver  rouble  to  the  noukar  who  had  held  the 
bridle,  and  left  the  city. 

But  two  days  later  it  was  told  how  the  celebrated 
brigand  Mullah  Nour  had  had  the  audacity  to  enter  the 
city;  how,  thanks  to  his  active  surveillance,  the  chief 


136  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

of  police  had  been  warned  of  his  presence,  and  had  sent 
after  him  a  dozen  noukars,  to  whom  Mullah  Nour  was 
glad  to  show  his  horse's  heels. 

Ill-bred  i)eople  said  much  worse;  but  one  never  has 
to  believe  wliat  ill-bred  people  say. 

During  this  time  poor  Iskander  was  moping  within 
the  four  walls  of  his  house.  He  had  but  to  say  one 
word  to  establish  his  innocence;  but  he  would  a  hun- 
dred times  have  preferred  to  die  rather  than  dishonor 
Kassime. 

To  await  trial  is  purgatory  for  every  native  of  Asia. 
An  Asiatic  can  better  sustain  an  undeserved  pimishment 
than  a  merited  trial  if  the  latter  is  delayed. 

"Ah!"  he  cried  in  his  impatience,  "eternal  chains, 
the  snows  of  Siberia,  everything  rather  than  the  sus- 
picion of  the  Russians,  who  force  me  to  love  them,  and 
the  mockery  of  my  compatriots,  whom  I  detest.  I  am 
ready  to  die  by  the  sword,  but  to  die  by  the  rope  is  to 
die  twice." 

And,  bound  by  his  parole,  he  began  to  roar  anrt  rage 
like  a  caged  tiger,  to  rend  the  sleeves  of  his  tchourka 
and  weep  like  a  child. 

In  the  evening,  at  an  hour  when  all  the  streets  in  the 
city  were  empty,  when  the  houses  were  enlivened  by 
the  sound  of  voices  and  the  flashing  of  lights,  when  the 
married  Mussulman  was  enjoying  rejwse  of  soul  beside 
his  wife,  —  even  beside  the  four  wives  allotted  him  by 
the  prophet, —  and  when,  on  the  other  hand,  the  celibate 
was  moping  at  his  hearth,  Iskander,  sitting  by  his  own 
with  his  head  thrust  between  his  two  hands,  heard  one 
of  his  window-panes  crash  under  a  blow  from  some 
object,  and  that  object  fell  into  his  room. 

It  was  a  pebble,  to  wliich  was  attached  a  small  note. 

He  unfolded  it,  and  read,  — 


ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED.  137 

"  Mullah  Nour  to  Iskander,  greeting !  Better  to  be  a  cap 
tive  and  innocent,  than  a  free  man  and  guilty,  believe  me 

"  I  know  all ;  I  will  declare  everything  in  order  to  prove 
your  innocence. 

"  The  rest  lies  with  Allah ! 

"  Patience  and  hope ;  your  deliverance  shall  not  be  long  in 
coming." 

The  next  morning,  Iskander  was  summoned  before 
the  commandant;  but  he  had  not  had  time  to  arrive 
before  every  one  was  already  congratulating  him  upon 
the  happy  turn  in  his  affairs. 

The  robbers  were  captured;  they  had  got  together  to 
divide  the  booty  at  Baktiara,  where  they  had  been  sur- 
rounded and  made  prisoners. 

Two  were  Lesghians,  two  were  men  of  that  city. 

In  the  house  of  one  of  the  latter  was  a  double  wall  in 
which  the  plunder  had  been  secreted. 

Iskander  Beg  was  quite  innocent. 

Then  Iskander,  deeply  touched  by  the  kindly  regard 
bestowed  on  him  by  the  commandant,  in  turn  sought  a 
private  interview.  He  confessed  all,  —  his  love  for 
Kassime,  Festahli's  broken  promise. 

The  commandant  listened,  half  smiling,  half  sad. 

**  Iskander,"  said  he,  "  you  see  yourself  into  what 
your  imprudence  has  led  you.  Festahli  did  wrong, 
doubtless;  but  one  is  not  avenged  of  a  wrong  by  doing 
wrong.  Thieves  of  gold  are  not  the  only  thieves;  an 
upright  man  does  nothing  underhandedly.  Secrecy  and 
night  are  the  cloaks  of  ravishers  and  brigands.  Your 
future  happiness  occupies  your  heart;  I  shall  do  what 
I  can  to  make  it  expand  from  your  heart  into  your  life. 
Adieu,  Iskander.  In  the  name  of  those  who  love  you, 
remain  what  you  are,  and  what  you  nearly  ceased  to  be, 
—  an  honest  man !  " 


138  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

And  he  pressed  his  hand  affectionately,  again  wishing 
him  happiness. 

Iskauder  was  proclaimed  innocent,  Iskander  was  free ; 
his  enjoyment  of  the  twofold  happiness  lasted  but  a 
moment.  It  was  such  grief  for  the  young  man  to 
believe  that  he  must  renounce  his  Kassime. 

The  kiss  that  he  had  snatched  from  her  lips  thrilled 
him  yet  to  the  depths  of  his  heart.  He  recalled  minutely 
every  detail  of  his  last  meeting  with  his  beloved;  his 
soul  seemed  ready  to  fly  at  the  thought  of  that  sweet 
voice  whose  echo  it  had  become. 

"No,"  said  he,  "Mullah  Nour  has  written  nonsense, 
and  as  for  what  the  commandant  told  me,  it  is  easily 
seen  that  he  is  not  in  love.  I  am  ready  to  purchase 
Kassime  even  with  a  crime,  and  I  am  sure  that  in  spite 
of  the  crime  I  should  be  happy  with  her,  —  happy,  even 
if  I  should  be  forced  to  carry  her  to  the  mountain,  with 
her  consent  or  without  it.  I  will  take  her  away,  if 
only  for  an  hour;  I  will  steep  my  heart  in  heavenly 
delights." 

Poor  Kassime  was  sorrowful  also.  In  her  solitude 
she  was  learning  with  tears  to  count  the  hours  of 
separation. 

"I  fastened  a  rose  on  my  breast,"  sighed  she,  "and 
it  whispered,  *I  am  the  Spring;'  a  nightingale  sang 
me  his  song  of  love,  and  I  called  it  joy ;  Iskander  looked 
into  my  eyes  and  gave  me  a  kiss,  and  with  tliat  kiss  I 
knew  love.  But  where  art  thou,  lovely  rose!  where 
art  thou,  sweet  nightingale?  where  art  thou,  Iskander! 
They  are  gone  where  my  happiness  has  flown." 


THE  MILLER.  139 


XIII. 

THE  MILLEB. 

Know  you  the  Tengua  ? 

It  is  sometimes  a  brooklet,  sometimes  a  torrent,  some- 
times a  stream,  and  at  times  a  river. 

For  a  quarter  of  a  verst  it  runs  cramped  within  a 
narrow  gorge,  into  which  it  plunges  with  abhorrence, 
and  through  which  it  madly  courses. 

The  storms  of  many  centuries  have  not  washed  the 
blackened  traces  of  lightning  from  the  walls  of  the  gorge 
where  the  Tengua  thunders. 

Entire  masses  of  rock,  precipitated  from  the  moun- 
tain's height  to  the  bottom  of  the  gorge,  form  the  bed 
over  which  it  leaps  and  foams  with  maddening  uproar. 

The  neighborhood  of  this  chasm  is  wild  and  gloomy; 
its  entrance  is  formidable. 

The  right  bank  of  the  torrent  casts  the  shadow  of  its 
rocks  far  over  the  valley. 

The  left  bank  lowers  into  the  water  a  narrow  path 
which  first  traverses  a  little  wood. 

Ill  luck  to  the  horseman  who,  without  guide,  engages 
in  a  struggle  with  this  liquid  hell,  especially  at  seasons 
of  thaw  or  melting  snow. 

Ill  luck  to  him  if  he  encounter  brigands  in  this  pass, 
which  seems  expressly  planned  for  an  ambuscade.  De* 
fence  and  flight  are  impossible  here. 

At  this  spot  Mullah  Nour,  the  bandit  from  the  book 
of  whose  life  we  are  taking  a  page,  —  this  very  Mullah 


140  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Noor  with  a  dozen  of  his  fellows  stopped  three  regi- 
ments which  were  returning  with  the  enormous  spoils 
of  General  Pankratief's  expedition. 

Wlien  they  were  just  on  the  point  of  descending  into 
the  river,  he  appeared  before  them  mounted  and  com- 
pletely armed,  threw  his  bourka  on  the  ground  and 
saiil,  — 

"I  salute  you,  comrades!  Allah  has  granted  you 
victory  and  spoils.  Honor  be  to  you  I  but  it  would 
only  be  like  the  good  Christians  you  are  to  let  me  share 
your  happiness.  I  exact  nothing,  —  I  entreat ;  be 
generous,  and  let  each  give  me  what  he  will.  Think 
now,  brothers,  you  are  returning  rich,  carrying  presents 
to  your  relatives.  As  for  me,  I  am  poor,  I  have  no 
home;  and  for  an  hour's  repose  under  others'  roofs,  I 
pay  a  handful  of  gold.  Yet,  know  you,  brothers,  men 
have,  like  cowards,  stripped  me  of  everything.  Hap- 
pily, Allah  has  preserved  my  courage;  more  than  that, 
he  has  given  me  these  gloomy  ravines  and  these  naked 
rocks  which  you  yourselves  scorn.  Of  these  rocks  and 
ravines  I  am  king,  and  no  one  shall  pass  through  my 
territories  without  my  permission.  You  are  in  great 
numbers,  you  are  brave;  but  if  you  mean  to  pass  by 
force,  it  will  cost  you  much  blood,  and  of  time  much 
more,  for  you  will  cross  only  when  I  and  my  brave  men 
have  fallen.  Every  stone  will  fight  for  me,  and  as  for 
myself,  I  will  shed  here  the  last  drop  of  my  blood;  I 
will  bum  here  my  last  grain  of  powder.  Choose ;  you 
have  much  to  lose,  and  I  nothing.  Men  call  me  Nour, 
The  Lights  but  my  life,  I  swear,  is  gloomier  than  the 
darkness. " 

A  murmur  rose  from  the  ranks  of  the  troopers;  some 
frowned,  others  were  wrathful. 

**  Let   us  trample   Mullah   Nour  under  our  horses' 


THE  MILLER.  141 

feet,"  said  they,  "and  go  on.  You  see  how  many  we 
are,  how  many  you  are.  On!  let  us  charge  the 
bandits!" 

But  no  one  ventured  first  into  the  roaring  stream, 
whose  ford  was  covered  by  the  guns  of  a  dozen  brigands. 

Rashness  made  way  for  reflection,  and  the  three  regi- 
ments yielded  to  Mullah  Nour's  demands. 

"  We  shall  give  you  what  we  like,  and  nothing  more. " 

And  so  saying,  each  cavalier  threw  a  little  money 
down  on  the  bandit's  bourka. 

"  But  understand  that,  by  force,  you  could  not  have 
taken  a  nail  from  our  horses'  shoes." 

And  they  passed  one  by  one  in  single  file  before 
Mullah  Nour. 

Mullah  Nour  smilingly  bowed  to  them.    . 

"  Allah !  "  said  he,  after  this  adventure  which  had 
brought  him  three  or  four  thousand  roubles,  "it  is  no 
feat  to  shear  the  wool  from  the  sheep  of  Daghestan, 
when  I  have  shaved  the  hair  from  the  wolves  of  the 
Karabach.  I  do  not  know  why  these  people  of 
Daghestan  should  complain  about  their  crops;  I  take 
no  pains  to  sow,  plough ,  or  cultivate ;  I  stand  on  the 
highway  and  pray,  and  my  prayer  brings  me  an  ample 
harvest.  Only  know  how  to  set  about  it,  and  you  can 
extract  an  abassi,  not  from  every  carriage,  but  from  every 
gun-barrel." 

But  early  in  the  summer  of  the  year  in  which  the 
events  that  we  are  relating  took  place,  no  one  had  seen 
Mullah  Nour,  no  one  had  heard  Mullah  Nour  spoken 
of  as  on  the  banks  of  the  Tengua.  Where  was  he, 
then? 

In  the  government  of  Shekin  perhaps;  perhaps  in 
Persia,  where  he  might  indeed  have  been  forced  to  take 
refuge ;  and  perhaps  he  was  dead. 


U2  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Nobody  knew  anything  about  him,  —  not  even  Mullah 
S^dek,  who  pretended  to  have  been  robbed  by  him  on 
his  way  from  Persia  to  Derbend. 

He  had  left  Kouban  early  in  the  morning,  this 
worthy,  this  respectable  Mullah  Scdek,  and,  toward 
noon,  he  had  reached  the  spot  where  the  Tengua,  freed 
from  the  confines  of  the  gorge,  goes  on  its  way.  Insatiate 
as  the  desert  sand,  he  was  unwilling  to  take  a  guide, 
whose  trouble  he  must  have  paid  for  by  a  few  paltry 
pieces  of  the  coin  that  he  had  gathered  by  the  bushel  at 
Derbend. 

The  June  sun  was  terribly  warm,  and  our  wayfaring 
mullah  was  in  the  act  of  transferring  his  gun  from  the 
right  shoulder  to  the  left. 

When  he  caught  sight  of  a  little  wood  in  the  distance, 
he  was  delighted ;  but  when  he  saw  the  river  close  at 
hand,  he  was  in  despair. 

"  May  the  devil  take  me ! "  murmured  he ;  *  had  I 
known  what  this  river  was  like,  I  would  not  have 
attempted  to  cross  it  without  a  guide,  although  its  l)cd 
were  silver  and  gold  instead  of  rocks.  In  fact,  I  was 
crazy  not  to  have  hired  one.  ** 

And  he  gazed  about  him  in  terror;  the  spot  was 
deserted  and  solitary. 

However,  after  careful  search,  he  discovered,  tied  to 
a  tree  in  the  wood,  a  horse  all  saddled  and  bridled ;  and 
under  this  same  tree  was  a  simple  Tartar,  armed  only 
with  his  kandjiar,  a  weapon  that  no  Tartar  ever  goes 
without. 

Mullah  S^dek  approached  step  by  step  and  looked 
attentively. 

The  flour  whitening  the  Tartar's  coat  and  beard  indi- 
cated that  he  was  a  miller.  The  miller  was  eating  his 
breakfast. 


THE  MILLER.  143 

Our  holy  man,  who  had  felt  his  heart  heat  for  an 
instant,  became  reassured. 

"  Hi !  friend !  "  cried  he  to  the  unknown,  "  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  belong  hereabouts,  do  you  not  ?  " 

*  To  be  sure  I  belong  here,"  replied  the  miller  with 
his  mouth  full. 

"  In  that  case,  you  ought  to  know  all  the  fords  of  this 
river?" 

"  Oh !  I  certainly  think  I  ought  to  know  the  fords  of 
the  Tengua;  she  runs  only  with  my  permission.  Such 
as  you  see  her,  this  river  is  my  servant." 

"  You  will  do  me  a  great  service,  my  good  man,  and 
Allah  will  bless  you,  if  you  will  conduct  me  to  the 
other  side  of  the  gorge." 

"Wait  until  night,"  tranquilly  returned  the  miller. 
"Between  now  and  night  the  river  will  fall,  my  horse 
will  be  rested,  and  I,  too,  shall  be  refreshed.  It  will 
not  take  us  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  then  to  ford 
the  torrent ;  but  just  now  it  is  dangerous. " 

"In  the  name  of  Allah!  In  the  names  of  Ali  and 
Hussein!  In  the  name  of  my  prayers!  I  am  a  mullah; 
lead  me  across  without  delay,  now,  instantly  !  " 

" "  Oh !  "  said  the  miller,  "  neither  prayers  nor  blessings 
will  bring  that  to  pass.  Never,  at  such  high  water, 
will  I  try  to  ford  the  Tengua !  " 

"  Have  some  feeling,  my  friend ;  Allah  will  reward 
you,  you  may  be  sure,  if  you  do  anything  for  a 
mullah." 

"  Mullah  as  much  as  you  like,  but  I  would  not  risk 
getting  drowned  to  guide  the  prophet  himself." 

"  Do  not  despise  me ;  I  am  not  so  poor  as  you  think, 
perhaps,  and  if  you  render  me  this  service,  it  shall  not 
be  for  nothing. " 

The  miller  smiled. 


144  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

"  Well,  let  U8  see,  what  would  you  give  me  1 "  ho 
said,  scratching  bis  beard. 

"I  will  give  you  two  abassis;  I  hope  that  is 
reasonable. " 

"Good!  two  abassis t  With  two  abassis  I  should 
not  even  have  the  means  of  getting  my  horse  shod.  No, 
I  will  not  take  you  across  for  two  roubles  even;  liecause 
a  new  head  is  not  to  be  bought  with  two  roubles,  and  a 
man  would  plainly  be  risking  his  head  in  that  frightful 
ford." 

They  bargained  a  long  time;  at  last  Mullah  Sddek 
ended  by  promising  the  sum  exacted  by  the  miller. 

On  giving  up  his  horse's  bridle  to  the  guide,  Mullah 
S^ek  surrendered  at  discretion  and  trusted  himself 
entirely  to  the  other's  experience.  The  holy  mau 
nearly  died  of  fright  when  he  began  to  ford  the  river 
and  penetrated  the  entrance  of  the  gorge.  But  when, 
through  the  opposite  gap,  he  again  caught  sight  of  the 
valley  covered  with  grass,  with  sunlight  ^nd  flowers, 
his  courage  revived,  and  supposing  there  was  nothing 
more  to  fear,  he  addressed  his  guide,  — 

"  Come,  will  you  get  on  a  little  faster,  you  pas- 
cal?" 

But  our  brave  mullah  had  found  his  courage  a  little 
too  soon.  The  last  part  of  the  ford  was  the  deepest  and 
most  dangerous. 

The  guide  halted  just  at  that  part,  and  turning  his 
horse,  he  said,  — 

"  Well,  Sddek,  ten  steps  more  and  you  are  on  the 
bank.  Now  let  us  settle  our  accounts.  You  know 
that  I  have  well  earned  your  gold-piece,  eh  t " 

"A  gold-piece!  Have  you  no  conscience,  friend? 
No,  you  are  joking,  surely.  I  might  as  well  have 
built  me  a  silver  bridge  to  cross  on.     Gro  on,  now,  good 


THE  MILLER.  145 

fellow,  and  on  the  other  side  I  will  give  you  two  ahassis 
and  you  can  be  off. " 

"  Good!  we  shall  come  to  better  terms,  I  fancy." 

"  Undoubtedly,  undoubtedly.  Necessity  —  you  hold 
a  knife  to  my  throat,  and  I  must  certainly  cross  over. 
Where  do  you  expect  a  poor  traveller  to  get  so  mucli 
money  ?  Alas !  I  have  already  been  robbed.  Come , 
come,  take  me  to  the  other  side,  brother;  and  once 
there,  you  can  go  about  your  business,  and  I  will  go 
about  mine." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  miller,  shaking  his  head;  "  I  told 
you,  and  I  repeat  that  I  will  not  leave  this  spot  with- 
out having  settled  my  account  with  you,  and  our  account 
does  not  date  from  to-day.  You  have  no  conscience. 
Mullah  Sedek,  but  you  doubtless  have  a  memory.  To 
excite  sympathy  and  obtain  money  at  Derbend,  you 
invented  the  story  that  Mullah  Nour  had  stopped  you, 
stripped  you,  and  taken  everything.  Tell  me,  where 
did  that  happen  1  " 

"I  have  never  said  such  a  thing!"  cried  Mullah 
Sedek ;  "  may  Allah  condemn  me  if  I  said  that !  " 

"  Recall  the  court  of  the  mosque,  Sedek ;  remember 
what  you  said  to  the  Lesghian,  what  you  told  the  way- 
farer who  slept  on  his  bourka.  And  now  look  me  in 
the  face,  as  I  am  looking  at  you,  and  perhaps  we  shall 
recognize  each  other." 

Mullah  Sedek  scanned  the  face  of  his  guide;  under 
the  flour  which  covered  it  he  was  at  first  unrecognizable, 
but  the  flour  had  disappeared;  gradually  the  whitened 
beard  had  become  black;  under  the  frowning  brows 
glittered  two  black  eyes.  However,  seeing  that  he  had 
no  weapon  but  his  kandjiar.  Mullah  Sedek  seized  his 
gun;  but  before  he  could  cock  it,  the  kandjiar's  point 
was  at  his  breast. 

10 


146  THE  BALL  OF  BNOW. 

**  If  you  twitch  so  much  as  a  hair  of  your  moustache," 
said  the  counterfeit  miller,  "  I  warn  you  that,  like 
Jonah,  you  shall  go  to  preach  to  the  fishes  against 
drinking  either  wine  or  brandy.  Come,  now,  away 
with  your  gun,  away  with  your  sword !  Your  business 
is  to  cheat  people  in  the  shops  and  in  the  pulpit;  to 
lie  in  the  morning,  to  lie  in  the  evening,  to  lie  at  all 
times;  but  fighting  is  the  business  of  brave  men,  — not 
yours,  therefore.  Do  not  move,  I  say,  you  son  of  a 
dog!  In  this  place,  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  waste 
even  one  charge  of  powder  on  you,  and  that  is  why  I 
carry  no  fire-arms;  I  have  only  to  drop  your  horse's 
bridle,  and  in  five  minutes  you  are  a  corpse." 

At  these  words  Mullah  Scdek  turned  as  white  as 
wax.  He  clutched  his  horse's  mane,  conscious  that  he 
was  growing  dizzy,  and  about  to  slip  from  his  saddle. 
But,  without  for  an  instant  losing  sight  of  the  wicked 
kandjiar  that  glittered  against  his  breast  like  a  flashing 
light,  he  cried,  — 

"  Mercy !  I  am  a  mullah !  " 

"I  am  myself  a  mullah,"  responded  the  guide,  "and 
even  more  than  a  mullah,  — I  am  Mullah  Nour." 

Mullah  Scdek  gave  a  shriek  and  cowered  to  his  horse's 
mane ,  clasping  both  hands  about  his  own  neck,  as  if  he 
already  felt  the  steel's  sharp  edge  upon  its  nape. 

Mullah  Nour  began  to  laugh  at  S<^ek's  terror;  then 
raising  him  up  at  last,  he  said,  — 

"  Your  story  to  the  people  of  Derbend  maligned  me; 
you  made  everybody  believe  that  I  had  robbed  you  of 
your  last  kopeck,  of  your  last  shirt  even,  —  I,  who  give 
the  poor  man  the  bit  of  bread  that  he  begs  in  vain  at 
the  rich  man's  door,  —  I  who  never  take  more  than  one 
piece  of  gold  from  the  merchants  themselves,  and  that 
not  for  myself,  but  for  my  comrades,  —  comrades  who 


THE  MILLER.  147 

would  kill  and  plunder  without  shame  and  without 
remorse,  did  I  not  restrain  them.  And  more  than 
that,  — you  are  the  rohber,  for  you  meant  to  rob  your 
guide  by  refusing  him  what  you  had  promised;  lastly, 
you  are  an  assassin,  for  when  I  demanded  what  was 
legitimately  my  due  you  would  have  assassinated 
me." 

"  Have  pity  on  me,  pardon  me,  good  Mullah  Nour!  " 
said  Sedek. 

"  Have  you  ever  pitied  the  lot  of  the  poor  man  whom 
you  saw  dying  of  hunger?  Would  you  have  felt  any 
remorse  if  you  had  killed  me?  No;  for  you  are  a 
miserable  wretch.  You  coin  every  letter  of  the  Koran 
into  money,  and  in  your  own  interests  and  for  your  own 
profit  you  sow  dissension  in  families.  I  recognized  you ; 
I  knew  what  sort  of  a  man  you  were,  and  I  did  not 
touch  you  when  you  passed  along  here  on  your  way  to 
Derbend.  You  did  not  see  me ;  you  did  not  meet  me ; 
you  did  not  know  me;  yet  you  insulted  me.  Well, 
now  you  will  not  be  lying  when  you  say  that  I  have 
robbed  you.     Mullah  Sedek,  give  me  your  money!  " 

Mullah  Sedek  sent  up  shriek  after  shriek,  he  shed 
great  tears;  but  he  was  entrapped,  he  had  to  submit.. 
One  after  another,  he  cast  his  poor  roubles  into  the 
sack  held  out  to  him  by  Mullah  Nour,  squeezing  each 
coin  before  letting  it  go,  as  if  a  coating  of  silver  might 
cling  to  his  hands. 

Finally,  he  reached  the  last  piece. 

"That  is  all,"  said  he. 

"  You  would  swear  to  a  lie  on  the  edge  of  the  grave !  " 
cried  Mullah  Nour.  "  Look  here,  Sedek,  unless  you 
wish  to  become  more  intimately  acquainted  with  my 
poniard,  count  better.  You  still  have  money;  you 
have  gold  in  the  inside  pocket  of  your  tchouska.     I 


148  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

know  how  much,  and  I  can  tell  you,  —  fifteen  hundred 
roubles.     Is  n't  that  it?  " 

Great  was  the  lamentation  of  Sedek,  but  he  was 
forced  to  yield  up  his  very  last  piece  of  gold. 

Mullah  Nour  had  spoken  the  truth,  he  knew  the 
amount. 

Mullah  Nour  then  conducted  S^dek  to  the  much 
desired  bank,  and  made  him  there  dismount  from  his 
horse. 

Mullah  S^ek  believed  himself  at  quits  with  the 
bandit,  but  he  was  deceived. 

"No^,  that  is  not  all,"  said  the  latter;  "you  have 
hindered  the  marriage  of  Iskander  Beg,  and  you  must 
mend  what  you  have  marred.  You  have  a  bottle  of  ink 
in  your  girdle ;  write  to  Hadji  Festahli  that  you  have 
received  on  the  way  a  letter  from  your  brother,  in  which 
he  tells  you  that  his  son  does  not  wish  to  marry,  and 
has  gone  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca;  or  say  that  he  is 
dead,  if  you  like.  The  deuce!  you  ought  not  to  be  put 
to  it  for  a  lie!  Only,  arrange  it  so  that  Iskander  can 
wed  his  promised  bride.  Otherwise,  I  shall  see  to 
marrying  you  to  the  houris,   Mullah  S^ek !  '* 

*  Never!  "  cried  Mullah  Sedek,  "  never!  No,  no, 
no,  I  will  not  do  it!  You  have  taken  all  I  had;  be 
content  with  what  you  have  robbed  me  of." 

"  Ah  I  is  it  so  f  "  said  Mullah  Nour. 

He  clapped  his  hands  three  times,  and,  at  the  third, 
a  dozen  bandits  appeared,  as  if  they  had  issued  from  the 
rocks. 

"The  worthy  Mullah  S^dek  wishes  to  write,"  said 
Mullah  Nour;  "  second  him,  my  friends,  in  the  laudable 
intention." 

In  a  twinkling,  Mullah  S^dek,  if  such  was  indeed 
his  desire,  had  nothing  left  to  wish  for.     One  bandit 


THE  MILLER.  149 

detached  his  ink-bottle,  another  dipped  his  pen  in  the 
ink,  a  third  handed  him  paper,  and  last  of  all,  a  fourth, 
bracing  his  hands  against  his  knees,  and  lowering  his 
shoulders,  offered  his  back  for  a  desk. 

Three  times  Mullah  Sedek  began  to  write,  but, 
whether  from  errors  or  unwillingness,  three  times  he 
broke  off. 

"  Well  1 "  demanded  Mullah  Nour,  his  voice  but  the 
more  threatening  for  appearing  to  be  perfectly  calm. 

"  The  ink  is  bad,  and  my  head  is  so  bothered  that  I 
can  think  of  no  words." 

"  Then  write  with  your  blood  and  think  with  your 
papak,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  with  an  emphasizing  flash 
of  the  terrible  kandjiar;  "but  write  very  quickly!  If 
not,  I  will  put  such  a  point  between  your  two  eyebrows 
that  the  devil  alone  can  tell  which  letter  of  the  alphabet 
you  resemble." 

Mullah  Sedek  saw  that  his  hesitation  had  gone  its 
length,  and  he  finally  made  up  his  mind  to  write. 

"  Set  your  seal  now,"  said  Mullah  Nour,  when  the 
letter  was  finished. 

Mullah  Sedek  obeyed. 

**  There!  now  give  it  to  me,"  demanded  Mullah  Nour; 
"  I  will  see  to  posting  it. " 

He  took  the  letter,  read  it,  assured  himself  that  it 
was  what  he  desired,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and  then, 
tossing  to  Mullah  Sedek  all  that  had  been  taken  from 
him,  he  said, — 

"  There  is  your  gold  and  silver,  Sedek ;  take  it  back, 
not  a  kopeck  is  missing.  And  now  which  of  us  two  is 
miser  or  thief?  Answer.  However,  it  is  not  a  gift, 
but  a  payment.  You  have  blackened  my  name  at 
Derbend,  you  must  regild  it  at  Schumaka,  and  that  in 
open  mosque.     Go,  then,  and  know  that  if  you  do  not 


150  THE  BALL  OP  SNOW. 

carry  out  my  orders,  my  ball  will  find  yoa,  however 
well  hidden  you  may  be.  I  have  convinced  you  that  I 
know  everything;  I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  can  do 
everything." 

Mullah  S^dek  pledged  himself  to  all  that  the  bandit 
exacted,  took  possession  of  his  money  very  joyfully, 
restored  it  to  his  pockets,  after  first  assuring  himself 
that  his  pockets  contained  no  holes,  and,  remounting 
his  horse,  he  set  off  at  full  gallop. 

Two  days  later.  Mullah  Sedek  scandalized  the  people 
of  Schumaka  by  a  discourse  in  which  he  eulogized 
Mullah  Nour,  comparing  him  to  a  lion  that  bore  the 
heart  of  a  dove  in  his  breast. 


CONCLUSION.  151 


XIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

Probably  the  letter  written  to  Festahli  by  his 
friend,  Mullah  Sedek,  left  the  former  not  a  ray  of  hope 
for  the  union  on  which  he  had  counted;  for,  one  even- 
ing after  the  letter  had  reached  his  address,  music  and 
songs  were  heard  in  the  streets  of  Derbend. 

Kassime  was  being  escorted  to  the  home  of  her 
betrothed  husband,  Iskander. 

All  Derbend  followed  her;  shouts  and  acclamations 
rent  the  air  on  every  side,  and  from  every  house-top 
innumerable  guns  discharged  their  fires,  like  brilliant 
rockets. 

The  whole  town  seemed  ablaze,  rejoicing  in  Iskander's 
happiness. 

Iskander  Beg,  on  hearing  the  noise  and  music,  had 
twenty  times  drawn  near  to  his  door,  and  every  time 
custom  forbade  his  opening  it. 

Finally,  at  the  twenty-first  time,  when  the  procession 
was  almost  at  his  threshold,  as  he  half-opened  his  door 
and  shyly  put  out  his  head,  a  horseman  extended  his 
hand,  saying, — 

"  Iskander,  may  Allah  grant  you  all  the  happiness 
that  I  wish  you !  " 

And  the  same  instant  he  wheeled  his  horse  away, 
that  he  might  not  be  caught  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

But,  just  as  the  horse  turned,  he  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  Yussef,  who,  naturally,  was  the  best  man 
at  Iskander's  wedding. 


152  THE  BALL  OF  SNOW. 

Tnssef  Beg  recognized  the  horseman,  and  could  not 
restrain  an  exclamation  of  terror. 

«  Mullah  Nour!"  he  cried. 

That  name,  as  one  can  well  understand,  threw  the 
fete  into  great  confusion. 

The  cry  "Mullah  Nour!  Mullah  Nour!"  re-echoed 
on  all  sides. 

"This  way!  that  way!  catch  him  I  hold  him  fasti" 
howled  the  ten  thousand  voices  together. 

But  Mullah  Nour  shot  away  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

All  the  young  men  who  were  on  horseback  in  the 
bride's  train  dashed  o£f  in  pursuit  of  the  bandit. 

Mullah  Nour  flew  through  the  streets  of  Derbend, 
and  all  they  saw  of  him  in  the  dark  was  the  shower  of 
sparks  from  his  horse's  hoofs. 

But  as  the  city  gates  were  closed  Mullah  Nour  could 
not  get  out. 

By  the  glare  of  shots  fired  at  him  along  his  course, 
they  saw  that  he  was  headed  toward  the  sea. 

He  would  there  find  himself  caught  between  the 
ramparts  and  the  water. 

One  instant  the  bandit  paused;  the  sea  was  high. 
They  saw  the  leaping  waves  and  tossing  foam;  they 
heard  their  roar. 

"  He  is  caught!  he  is  ours!  Death  to  Mullah  Noiirl  " 
shouted  his  pursuers. 

But  Mullah  Nour's  whip  whistled  like  the  wind, 
flashed  like  the  lightning,  and  from  the  rock  where  he 
had  an  instant  paused,  at  one  leap  his  horse  plunged 
into  the  sea. 

His  pursuers  drew  rein  as  the  waters  of  the  Caspian 
Sea  washed  their  horses'  flanks. 

They  strained  their  eyes,  screening  them  with  their 
hands,  in  an  effort  to  pierce  the  gloom. 


CONCLUSION.  153 

"  He  is  lost !  drowned !  dead !  "  they  shouted  at  last. 

A  formidable  peal  of  laughter  answered  their  shouts, 
and  a  hurrah  sent  up  from  a  dozen  throats  was  heard  in  the 
direction  of  a  little  island  uprising  about  a  quarter  of  a 
verst  from  Derbend,  which  announced  to  the  disappointed . 
pursuers  that  not  only  had  Mullah  Nour  escaped,  but 
that  he  was  even  surrounded  by  his  comrades. 

In  Iskander's  house  the  doors  are  closely  shut.  All 
is  very  quiet  within ;  a  faint  whispering  can  scarcely  be 
heard. 

Gayety  seeks  the  crowd;  happiness  loves  silence  and 
solitude. 


SULTANETTA. 


PEEFACE. 


One  word  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  story  I  am  about 
to  relate  fell  into  my  hands. 

I  was  at  Derbend,  the  city  of  the  Iron  Gates,  at  the 
residence  of  the  commander  of  the  fortress.  During 
breakfast  the  conversation  turned  on  the  novelist  Marlin- 
sky,  who  was  no  other  than  the  Bestuchef  that  was  con- 
demned to  the  Siberian  mines  for  the  conspiracy  of  1825, 
and  whose  brother  was  hanged  at  the  citadel  of  St. 
Petersburg  together  with  Pestel,  Mouravief,  Kalkovsky, 
and  Ryleief . 

Exempted  from  labor  in  the  mines  in  1827,  Bestuchef 
had  been  sent  as  a  soldier  to  the  army  of  the  Caucasus. 
Brave,  and  casting  himself  with  desperation  into  every 
danger,  he  soon  won  the  rank  of  ensign,  and  with  this 
rank  he  lived  a  year  in  the  fortress  of  Derbend. 

You  will  read  in  my  "  Voyage  au  Caucase  "  what  new 
catastrophe  gave  him  a  distaste  for  life,  and  how,  in  an 
encounter  with  the  Lesghiaris,  he  met  at  their  hands  a 
death  as  voluntary  _  as  suicide. 

Among  the  numerous  papers  left  in  his  room  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  was  found  a  manuscript.  This  manu- 
script has  since  been  read  by  different  persons,  and  among 
others  by  the  commandant's  daughter,  who  mentioned  it 


158  PREFACE. 

to  me  as  a  novel  of  great  interest.  Upon  her  recommen- 
dation I  had  it  translated,  and  finding,  not  only  much 
of  interest,  as  she  had  done,  but  also  a  very  remarkable 
local  coloring  in  the  little  romance,  I  determined  to  pub- 
lish it. 

I  took  it,  consequently,  from  the  hands  of  my  trans- 
lator; I  rewrote  it  to  render  it  comprehensible  to  French 
readers,  and  such  as  it  is,  without  changing  anything,  I 
am  publishing  it,  convinced  that  it  will  impress  others  in 
the  same  way  that  it  has  impressed  me. 

It  is,  moreover,  a  curious  pictiire  of  war  as  carried  on 
between  the  Russians,  those  representatives  of  the  civili- 
zation of  the  North,  and  the  wild,  fierce  tribes  of  the 
Caucasus. 

Ai<EX.  Dumas. 


SULTANETTA. 


I. 


"  Be  slow  to  offend  and  quick  to  avenge."  * 

It  was  Friday. 

Near  Bouinaky,  a  large  village  of  northern  Daghestan, 
the  Tartar  youth  had  assembled  for  a  horse-race,  supple- 
mented by  every  feat  of  hardihood  and  courage  that 
could  be  annexed  to  this  sort  of  f§te. 

Let  us  give  some  idea  of  the  magnificent  landscape  in 
which  the  scene  is  enacted. 

Bouinaky  ascends  the  two  spurs  of  a  lofty  mountain 
and  commands  the  surrounding  country.  To  the  left  of 
the  road  leading  from  Derbend  to  Tarky  is  outlined  the 
crest  of  the  Caucasus,  covered  with  forests ;  on  the  right 
is  the  shore,  against  which  the  waters  of  the  Caspian  Sea 
beat  with  ceaseless  murmur,  or,  rather,  with  ceaseless 
lamentation. 

The  day  was  fading. 

The  villagers,  allured  by  the  crispness  of  the  air  much 
more  than  by  interest  in  a  spectacle  too  often  repeated  to 
be  novel,  had  left  their  huts,  descended  their  mountain 
slopes  and  ranged  themselves  in  rows  on  both  sides  of  the 
road. 

1  Inscription  engraved  on  the  poniards  of  Daghestan. 


160  8ULTANLTTA. 

As  for  tlie  men,  they  stood  in  groups  or  squatted  in 
Turkish  fashion.  Old  men  were  smoking  Persian  tobacco 
in  their  Tchetchen  pipes.  The  sound  of  hilarity  pre- 
vailed over  all,  and  mingling  with  the  incessant  uproar 
was  heard  from  time  to  time  the  clashing  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  against  the  flints  of  the  road,  and  the  cry  of 
"  Katch  !  hatch  !  "  ("  Clear  the  way !  clear  the  way  !  ") 
uttered  by  the  riders  making  ready  for  the  race. 

Nature  is  radiant  in  Daghestan  during  the  month  of 
May;  thousands  of  roses  cover  the  granite  with'the  ruddy 
tint  of  dawn,  and  the  air  is  redolent  of  their  perfume; 
the  nightingales,  deep  in  the  green  twilights  of  the 
groves,  are  perpetually  singing.  Bounding  over  the 
rocks  are  flocks  of  sportive  sheep,  embellished  with 
orange-colored  spots  which  the  shepherds,  full  of  whim- 
sical fancies  with  regard  to  them,  make  with  henna,  the 
same  material  that  their  masters  employ  in  staining  the 
nails  of  the  hands  and  feet.  Buflaloes,  plunged  in  the 
marshes  in  voluptuous  enjoyment,  gaze  at  the  passer-by 
with  great  profound  eyes  which  would  seem  menacing 
were  they  not  pensive.  The  steppes  are  covered  with 
heather  of  many  hues.  Every  wave  of  the  Caspian 
glistens  like  the  scaly  coat  of  a  giant  fish.  With  every 
breath,  in  short,  quickening  the  senses  and  gladdening 
the  heart,  is  inhaled  something  of  that  seductiveness  of 
air,  of  sky,  of  atmosphere,  which  inspired  in  the  Greeks 
the  instinctive  divination  that  the  world  was  bom  here, 
that  the  Caucasus  was  its  cradle. 

Such  is  the  impression  that  native  or  foreigner  would 
have  received  on  nearing  the  village  of  Bouinaky  that 
jocund  Friday,  the  birthday  of  the  events  we  are  about 
to  chronicle. 

The  sun  was  gilding  the  sombre  walls  of  the  flat-roofed 
houses,  whose  shadows  gathered  the  greater  depth  and 


SULTANETTA.  161 

strengtli  the  farther  he  withdrew.  At  a  distance  could 
be  heard  the  doleful  creaking  of  the  avahas  ^  of  which  a 
long  line  was  distinguishable  among  the  Tartar  rocks 
that  stood  like  ghosts  in  a  graveyard,  and  in  the  lead  of 
their  noisy  procession  galloped  a  horseman  raising  a  cloud 
of  dust  upon  the  road. 

The  snowy  crest  of  the  mountains,  and  the  calm  sea 
opposite,  invested  the  scene  with  a  vast  magnificence. 

One  felt  that  Nature  was  alive  with  the  keenest,  most 
ardent  spirit. 

"  It  is  he !  it  is  he  !  he  is  coming !  there  he  is  !  "  cried 
the  throng  at  sight  of  this  dust  and  the  horseman  it 
screened  from  view,  but  whose  identity  they  already 
guessed. 

At  these  cries  there  was  great  commotion  among  the 
crowd. 

Horsemen  who  had  been  standing  about  until  then 
with  their  bridles  over  their  arms,  talking  with  acquaint- 
ances, leaped  upon  their  horses;  those  who  had  been 
galloping  right  and  left  at  random  and  according  to  their 
whim  drew  together,  and  all  hastened  away  to  meet  this 
horseman  and  his  suite. 

It  was  Ammalat  Beg,  nephew  of  the  Chamkal' 
Tarkovsky. 

He  wore  a  black  t<;houska  of  Persian  make,  trimmed 
with  the  exquisite  galoons  whose  secret  only  Caucasian 
manufacturers  possess;  the  sleeves,  half  hanging,  were 
caught  up  by  the  ends  to  the  shoulder.  His  arkalouke  of 
tarmalama  was  confined  to  the  figure  by. a  Turkish  scarf; 

^  The  arabas  are  carts  whose  wheels,  never  being  greased,  on  ac- 
count of  their  proprietors'  repugnance  to  pork,  at  every  revolution 
emit  a  groan  that  can  be  compared  to  nothing  but  that  of  the 
Spanish  norias. 

2  A  Tartar  title  equivalent  to  the  Russian  Jcness,  prince. 
11 


J  62  SULTANETTA. 

his  red  trousers  were  lost  in  yellow  boots,  with  high 
heels ;  his  gun,  poniard,  and  pistols  were  mounted  in  silver 
embossed  with  gold;  his  sword-hilt  was  adorned  with 
precious  stones.  Added  to  this,  the  heir  of  Chamkal 
Tarkovsky  was  twenty-four  years  old,  handsome,  well 
made,  and  of  an  open  countenance;  add,  too,  that  long 
ringlets  of  black  hair  fell  from  his  papak  on  his  neck, 
that  a  little  black  moustache  which  seemed  traced  by  a 
pencil  adorned  his  lips,  that  his  eyes  glowed  with  haughty 
kindliness,  that  he  was  mounted  on  a  black  charger  al- 
ways ready  to  run,  that  he  was  seated  on  a  light,  silver- 
embroidered,  Circassian  saddle,  that  his  feet  rested  in 
black  Khorassan  stirrups  of  steel  embossed  with  gold, 
that  twenty  noukars  in  embroidered  tchouskas  galloped 
at  his  side  on  splendid  horses,  and  you  will  realize  the 
impression  created  by  the  arrival  of  the  young  prince  in 
the  midst  of  a  people  upon  whom  wealth,  grace,  beauty, 
the  external  endowments,  in  short,  which  Oriental  skiea 
lavish  upon  its  elect,  have  such  supreme  influence  and 
for  whom  they  have  such  irresistible  attraction. 

The  men  stood  up  and  saluted  him,  bowing  with  hands 
upon  hearts. 

Murmurs  of  delight,  of  awe,  and  especially  of  admira- 
tion, rose  from  among  the  women. 

Beaching  the  centre  of  the  crowd,  Ammalat  Beg 
stopped. 

The  old  men,  leaning  on  their  staffs,  and  the  leading 
citizens  of  Bouinaky  gathered  round  him,  hoping  tlie 
young  beg  would  speak  to  them ;  but  the  young  beg  did 
not  even  look  their  way. 

Instead,  he  raised  his  hand  for  the  race  to  begin. 

Without  other  orders,  a  score  of  riders  then  dashed  off 
at  a  gallop,  each  striving  to  outdistance  his  neighbor. 

Then  they  all  seized  their  djerids,  or  javelins,  and 
burled  them  at  each  other  at  full  speed. 


SULTANETTA.  163 

The  most  skilful  ones  picked  them  up  again  without 
setting  foot  to  earth,  while  swinging  down  and  under 
their  horses'  stomachs. 

Others,  less  skilled,  trying  to  imitate  them,  rolled  in 
the  dust  amid  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  by-standers. 

The  shooting  began. 

Thus  far  during  the  race  Ammalat  Beg  had  held 
aloof;  but  his  noukars  had  one  after  another  allowed 
themselves  to  be  drawn  away  and  were  mingling  with 
the  competitors. 

Only  two  remained  with  the  prince. 

But,  with  the  excitement  of  the  races,  the  echoing 
shots,  and  the  pungent  smell  of  powder-smoke  filling  the 
air,  the  young  chamkal's  icy  indifference  seemed  to  thaw. 
He  began  to  shout  at  the  combatants,  rising  in  his  stir- 
rups to  urge  them  on,  and,  when  his  favorite  noukar's 
ball  missed  the  papak  that  he  had  thrown  into  the  air  in 
front  of  him,  he  could  no  longer  restrain  himself,  but 
seized  his  gun  and  dashed  at  full  gallop  into  the  midst  of 
the  marksmen. 

*'  Make  way  for  Ammalat  Beg ! "  was  heard  on  all 
sides. 

And  they  moved  aside  as  quickly  as  if  the  warning 
had  been:  "Way  for  the  waterspout  1  Way  for  the 
hurricane!  ** 

Along  a  verst's  distance  ten  poles  had  been  erected,  a 
papak  crowning  each. 

Ammalat  Beg  set  his  horse  at  a  gallop,  rode  past  them 
from  first  to  last,  his  gun  held  high  above  his  head ;  then 
when  he  had  passed  the  last,  he  turned  again,  and  rising 
in  his  stirrups,  fired  without  a  halt. 

The  papak  fell. 

Then,  still  galloping,  he  reloaded  his  gun,  retraced  his 
course,   returning   the   same   way   that   he    had    come. 


164  SULTANETTA. 

dropped  the  second  papak  in  like  manner,  and  so  on  to 
the  last  of  the  ten. 

This  display  of  skill,  ten  times  repeated,  elicited  uni- 
versal applause. 

Ammalat  Beg  did  not  pause ;  once  aroused,  his  pride 
demanded  a  complete  triumph.  He  tossed  away  liis  gun, 
took  his  pistol,  whirled  in  his  saddle  so  as  to  ride  back, 
ward,  and,  as  the  liorse  threw  up  his  hind  feet  in  the 
gallop,  he  fired  and  unshod  the  right  foot;  then,  reload- 
ing, he  did  the  same  with  tlie  left  foot. 

There  were  shouts  of  admiration. 

Next,  picking  up  his  gun,  he  ordered  one  of  hii 
noukars  to  gallop  ahead  of  him. 

The  two  set  off,  swift  as  thought. 

In  mid-career,  the  noukar  threw  a  silver  rouble  high 
into  the  air. 

Amalat  Beg  brought  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  but  at 
that  instant  his  horse  stumbled  and  rolled  over,  plough- 
ing the  dust  of  the  road  with  his  head. 

A  single  cry  was  heard;  it  had  issued  simultaneously 
from  all  throats. 

But  the  skilled  horseman  remained  standing  in  the 
stirrups,  no  more  disconcerted  than  if  nothmg  had  hap- 
pened,  and,  just  as  his  two  feet  were  touching  the  earth, 
he  fired. 

The  rouble,  driven  by  the  ball,  fell  far  outside  of  the 
assemblage  of  people. 

The  crowd,  intoxicated  with  delight,  burst  into  fran- 
tic hurrahs. 

But  Ammalat  Beg,  calm,  and  to  all  appearance,  un> 
moved,  quickly  disengaged  liis  feet  from  the  stirrups, 
aided  his  horse  to  rise,  and  threw  the  rein  to  one  of  hit 
noukars  to  have  him  instantly  shod. 

The  racing  and  shooting  continued. 


SULTANETTA.  165 

Just  then  the  foster-brother  of  Ammalat  Beg,  Sophyr 
Ali,  the  son  of  a  poor  beg  of  Bouinaky,  approached. 

He  was  a  handsome  youth,  simple-hearted  and  happy ; 
he  had  been  raised  and  had  grown  to  manhood  by  the 
side  of  Ammalat.  The  same  intimacy  existed  between 
them  as  between  two  brothers; 

He  jumped  down  from  his  horse,  bowed,  and  said,  — 

**  The  noukar  Mohammed  is  tiring  out  your  old  horse 
Antrim,  trying  to  make  him  leap  a  ravine  over  fifteen 
feet  wide." 

"  And  does  n't  Antrim  take  it  1  "  cried  Ammalat,  frown- 
ing with  annoyance.     "  Bring  him  to  me  at  once." 

He  went  to  meet  the  horse,  made  a  sign  for  the  noukar 
to  dismount,  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  directed  Antrim 
straight  to  the  ditch  to  make  him  look  at  it. 

Then,  retracing  his  steps,  he  started  from  the  field  at 
full  gallop  towards  the  ravine. 

The  nearer  he  approached,  the  harder  he  pressed  with 
his  knees  and  drew  on  the  bridle. 

But,  not  having  confidence  in  his  strength,  Antrim 
swerved  to  the  right  with  a  sudden  dash. 

Ammalat  Beg  rode  back  into  the  field  and  again  he  set 
ofi"  at  full  speed. 

This  time,  stimulated  by  the  whip,  Antrim  rose  to  his 
hind  feet  as  if  about  to  make  the  leap. 

But  instead  of  taking  the  ditch,  he  turned  on  his  hind 
feet  as  on  a  pivot,  and  refused  it  a  second  time. 

Ammalat  Beg  was  furious. 

In  vain  did  Sophyr  Ali  beg  him  not  to  urge  the  poor 
beast  that  had  so  honorably  spent  his  powers  in  races  and 
battles ;  Ammalat  paid  no  heed,  and,  drawing  his  schaska 
from  its  sheath,  he  forced  him  to  make  a  third  attempt, 
rousing  him  this  time  not  only  with  the  whip  but  with 
the  blade  of  his  sword. 


166  SULTANETTA. 

But  it  was  of  no  avail;  as  twice  before,  the  horse 
stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  ditch. 

But  this  time  Ammalat  Beg  gave  poor  Antrim  such  a 
blow  between  the  ears  with  his  schaska,  that  the  horse 
dropped  like  a  felled  ox. 

Ammalat  Beg  had  killed  him  at  one  stroke. 

"  That  is  a  faithful  servant's  reward !  "  remarked 
Sophyr  AH,  with  a  sigh,  looking  sadly  at  the  dead 
animal. 

"No,  it  is  punishment  for  disobedience,"  angrily  re- 
torted Ammalat  Beg. 

Sophyr  Ali  was  silent. 

The  horsemen  continued  riding. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  beating  drums,  and, 
rising  gradually  from  behind  the  mountains,  the  glitter- 
ing points  of  Russian  bayonets  could  be  seen. 

It  was  a  company  of  Kousinsk's  regiment  on  their  re. 
turn  from  escorting  a  wheat-train  to  Derbend. 

The  captain  commanding  this  company  marched  with 
another  officer  a  little  in  advance  of  the  troop. 

Thinking  it  time  for  his  men  to  rest,  the  captain 
ordered  a  halt. 

They  stacked  their  arms,  left  a  sentinel  in  charge,  and 
stretched  themselves  on  the  grass. 

The  arrival  of  a  detachment  of  Russians  was  no 
novelty  to  the  people  of  Bouinaky  in  1819 ;  but  such  a 
sight  ic  nou  a  very  agreeable  one.  even  to-day,  to  the  men 
of  Daghestan.  Their  religion  causes  them  to  regard  the 
Russians  as  their  undying  enemies,  and  if  they  sometimes 
smile  upon  them,  it  is  to  conceal  their  real  feelings  behind 
the  smile ;  and  the  real  feelings  are  of  hatred,  implacable 
and  deadly. 

A  murmur  passed  through  the  crowd  as  the  Russians 
halted  on  their  race-course.     The  women  regained  their 


SULTANETTA.  167 

houses,  not  however  without  a  glance  at  the  new-comers 
through  the  openings  of  their  veils ;  the  men,  on  the  con- 
trary, eyed  them  askance,  gathering  in  groups  and  speak- 
ing in  low  tones. 

But  the  older  men,  more  prudent,  approached  the  cap- 
tain and  asked  after  his  health. 

"  I  myself  am  very  well, "  said  he ;  "  but  my  horse  has 
cast  a  shoe,  so  that  he  limps.  Fortunately,  here  is  a 
good  Tartar, "  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  smith  that  was 
shoeing  Ammalat's  horse,  "  who  will  remedy  the  matter." 

Then,  approaching  him,  he  said,  — 

"  Eh !  friend,  when  you  have  finished  putting  a  new 
sole  on  the  horse  you  are  working  at,  you  shall  do  as 
much  for  mine." 

The  smith,  whose  face  was  doubly  blackened  by  sun 
and  soot,  turned  a  glowering  look  upon  the  captain, 
twisted  his  moustache,  crushed  his  papak  down  to  his 
ears,  but  made  no  reply;  and  when  he  had  done  with 
Ammalat  Beg's  horse,  he  tranqidlly  replaced  his  instru- 
ments in  his  sack. 

"  Ah  !  see  here !  did  you  tmderstand  me  1 "  demanded 
the  captain. 

"  Perfectly, "  retorted  the  smith. 

*' What  did  I  say,  then?" 

"  That  your  horse  had  cast  a  shoe." 

"Well,  since  you  understand,  set  yourself  to  work." 

"  To-day  is  Friday,  it  is  a  holiday ;  no  one  works  on 
holidays. " 

"  Listen,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  will  pay  whatever  you 
ask ;  but  understand  one  thing,  —  if  you  will  not  do  it  of 
your  own  accord,  you  shall  be  made  to  do  it." 

"  Before  all  other  commands  I  must  obey  Allah's,  who 
forbids  me  to  work  on  Friday.  I  already  sin  too  much 
on  ordinary  days,  but  I  will  think  twice  on  a  day  like 


168  8ULTANETTA. 

this  !  I  am  not  anxious  to  buy  my  own  coal  to  bum  me 
in  hell." 

"  Then  what  were  you  doing  just  now  t  "  insisted  the 
captain,  beginning  in  turn  to  knit  his  brows.  **  "Were 
you  not  at  work  f  It  strikes  me  that  a  horse  is  a  horse, 
especially  mine ;  he  is  a  pure  blooded  Mussulman.  Look, 
don't  you  recognize  him  for  a  Karabach  ]  " 

**  A  horse  is  a  horse,  it  is  true,  and  there  is  no  differ- 
wflce  between  them  when  they  are  of  good  blood ;  but  it 
is  not  so  with  men.  The  horse  that  I  have  just  shod  is 
Ammalat  Beg's  and  Ammalat  Beg  is  my  chief." 

"  Which  is  saying  that  if  you  had  not  obeyed  him,  he 
would  have  cut  off  your  two  ears,  you  knave!  and  be- 
cause you  do  not  grant  me  the  right  to  do  as  much,  you 
will  not  work  for  me.  Very  well,  my  man !  I  '11  not 
cut  off  your  ears,  because  the  thing  is  forbidden  to  us 
Christians ;  but  you  can  be  sure  of  getting  two  hundred 
lashes  on  your  back  if  you  don't  obey  me.  Do  you 
hear?" 

"I  hear." 

"Weill" 

"  Well,  as  I  am  a  good  Mussulman,  my  second  answer 
shall  be  the  same  as  my  first:  to-day  is  Friday,  and  Mus- 
sulmans do  not  work  on  Fridays." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it. " 

"  Since  you  worked  for  your  Tartar  chiefs  pleasure, 
you  shall  work  for  a  Ktissian  oflScer's  necessity.  I  say 
necessity,  because  if  my  horse  is  not  shod  I  cannot  con- 
tinue my  journey.  —  Here,  soldiers  !  " 

Already  a  large  group  had  collected  round  the  two  dis- 
putants; but  it  became  suddenly  greater  and  more 
crowded  at  this  point  in  the  quarrel,  and  voices  from 
among  the  Tartars  were  heard ;  — 


SULTANETTA.  1G9 

"  No,  that  must  not  be ;  it  cannot  be  permitted.  This 
is  Eriday ;  no  one  works  on  Fridays. " 

At  the  same  time  many  of  the  blacksmith's  friends 
began  to  cram  their  papaks  down  over  their  eyes  and 
grasp  the  hilts  of  their  poniards,  crowding  upon  the  cap- 
tain and  shouting  to  the  smith,  — 

"  Don't  you  shoe  the  Russian's  horse,  Alikper,  don't 
you  touch  his  beast;  what  you  do  for  Ammalat  Beg,  a 
good  Mussulman,  you  need  not  do  for  a  dog  of  a 
Muscovite." 

The  captain  was  brave;  besides,  he  knew  the 
Asiatics. 

"  Clear  out,  you  rabble  !  "  he  cried,  drawing  a  pistol 
from  its  holster ;  "  or,  if  you  stay,  hold  your  tongues ! 
for,  as  sure  as  that  you  will  all  be  damned,  the  first  one 
who  says  a  word  will  get  his  lips  sealed  with  lead." 

This  threat,  backed  by  the  bayonets  of  numerous 
soldiers,  had  its  effect.  The  cowards  disappeared,  the 
courageous  stood  their  ground,  though  without  saying 
another  word. 

As  for  Master  Alikper,  seeing  that  matters  looked 
serious  for  him,  he  cast  about  for  some  way  of  escape, 
and  perceiving  none,  he  muttered  a  few  words  in  Turk 
which  evidently  framed  an  excuse  to  the  Prophet,  rolled 
up  his  sleeves,  opened  his  sack,  extracted  his  hammer 
and  chisel,  and  proceeded  to  obey. 

It  shoidd  be  added  that  Ammalat  Beg  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  passing.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  Russians,  not 
desiring  a  disagreeable  encounter  with  them,  he  addressed 
a  few  words  to  an  old  woman,  his  nurse,  who  had 
watched  him  with  maternal  affection  throughout  all 
the  feats  of  skill  which  he  had  just  executed,  and 
leaping  upon  his  horse  he  took  the  road  to  his  own  house 


170  8ULTANETTA. 

which,   like  an  eagle's  eyrie,   overhung  the  village   of 
Bouinaky. 

But,  although  one  of  the  important  characters  in  our 
story  was  just  departing  in  one  direction,  another 
character,  also  important  to  a  certain  degree,  was  at  the 
same  moment  approaching  from  the  opposite  one. 


SULTANETTA.  171 


II. 

This  was  a  cavalier  low  of  stature  but  strongly  built. 
He  seemed  to  belong  to  the  easily  recognized  tribe  of  the 
Avares:  he  wore  a  helmet  and  breastplate  of  chain 
armor,  carried  a  small  shield  in  his  left  hand,  and  a 
straight-bladed  schaska  hung  from  his  side. 

The  only  thing  lacking  in  the  new  arrival's  costume,  a 
costume  which  is  to-day  exactly  the  same  as  was  that  of 
the  Crusaders,  was  the  cross  of  red  cloth  worn  on  the 
right  breast  by  those  mountaineers  who  had  remained 
faithful  to  the  Christain  religion. 

The  others,  becoming  converts  to  the  Moslem  religion, 
from  either  necessity  or  conviction,  retain  the  same  cos- 
tume but  without  the  sign  of  our  redemption. 

This  horseman  was  accompanied  by  five  noukars,* 
thoroughly  equipped  like  himself. 

From  the  dusty  covering  of  the  riders  and  the  foaming 
flanks  of  their  horses,  it  was  easy  to  surmise  that  they 
had  made  a  long  and  rapid  journey. 

As  the  head  horseman,  whom  we  have  accorded  partic- 
ular mention,  was  leisurely  passing  the  Russian  soldiers, 
to  whom  he  seemed  insolently  indifferent,  he  passed 
their  guns  so  closely  as  to  graze  one  of  the  stands  of  arms 
and  knock  it  down. 

But  without  appearing  to  remark  the  incident,  he  con- 
tinued on  his  way,  while  his  noukars  carelessly  allowed 
their  horses  to  trample  the  overturned  guns. 

^  Noukars  are  squires  or  equerries  to  be  found  in  the  suite  of 
every  noble  Tartar. 


172  SULTANETTA. 

The  sentinel,  who  from  a  distance  had  warned  the 
horseman,  "  Keep  off  !"  —  an  injunction  which  it  is  seen 
hatl  produced  no  great  effect,  —  sprang  to  his  horse's 
bridle,  while  the  soldiers,  considering  themselves  insulted 
by  the  contemptuous  behavior  of  the  Mussulmans,  began 
to  mutter  threateningly  among  themselves. 

"  Who  are  you  t "  cried  the  sentinel,  seizing,  as  we 
have  said,  the  bridle  of  the  chief  of  this  little  band. 

"  You  are  new  to  the  country,  if  you  have  not  recog- 
nized Ackmeth,  khan  of  Avarie, "  composedly  responded 
the  horseman,  snatching  his  horse's  bridle  from  the  sen- 
tinel's hand.  "  It  seems  to  me,  however,  that  a  year 
ago,  near  Backli,  I  nuide  a  deep  impression  on  the 
Russians." 

Then,  as  he  had  spoken  in  Tartar,  turning  to  one  of 
his  noukars,  he  added,  — 

"  Tell  these  dogs  in  their  own  language  what  I  have 
just  done  them  the  honor  to  say." 

The  noukar  repeated  in  Russian,  word  for  word,  what 
Ackmeth  Khan  had  just  said  in  Tartar. 

"  It  is  Ackmeth  Khan !  it  is  Ackmeth  Khan !  "  re- 
peated the  soldiers  in  chorus.  "  Seize  him !  Don't  let  him 
escape,  now  that  we  have  him  I  We  must  be  avenged  for 
the  Backli  affair!  " 

"  Back,  wretches ! "  yelled  Ackmeth  Khan,  fetching 
the  sentinel's  hand  a  blow  with  his  whip.  **  Have  you 
forgotten  that  I  am  to-day  a  Russian  general  ?  " 

And  this  time  he  spoke  in  such  pure  Muscovite  that 
the  soldiers  lost  not  a  word  of  it. 

"  A  Russian  traitor,  you  mean !  "  cried  several  of  the 
soldiers.  "  Let  us  take  him  to  the  captain,  or  to  Der- 
bend,  to  Colonel  Verkovsky." 

"  Only  to  hell  would  I  go  with  such  an  escort,  * 
■neered  Ackmeth  Khan. 


SULTANETTA.  173 

At  the  same  time  he  made  his  horse  rear  to  his  hind 
feet,  swayed  him  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  and  at 
last,  striking  his  hind-quarters  a  violent  blow  with  his 
whip,  he  leaped  him  over  the  sentinel,  who  was  over- 
thrown by  the  shock. 

The  noukars  set  their  horses  at  a  gallop  and  followed 
their  khan,  who  rode  about  a  hundred  paces  at  full  speed 
and  then  allowed  his  horse  to  resume  his  ordinary  gait, 
all  the  while  indifferently  trifling  with  his  bridle. 

Then  only  was  his  attention  attracted  by  the  crowd  of 
Tartars  gathered  about  the  farrier,  who  had  begun  to 
shoe  the  captain's  horse;  for,  just  as  the  captain  had 
failed  to  see  what  was  taking  place  behind  his  back,  so 
had  Ackmeth  Khan  been  in  ignorance  of  what  was  going 
on  ahead  of  him. 

"  Is  there  any  disturbance  here  1  "  inquired  the  khan, 
pulling  up  his  horse.  "  What  is  the  trouble  1  what  is 
the  dispute  about  1  " 

"  Ah !  the  khan  !  "  cried  the  Tartars. 

And  they  bowed  respectfully. 

Ackmeth  Khan  repeated  his  question. 

They  related  the  affair  of  the  captain  and  the  farrier. 

"  And  you  stand  looking  on,  as  unmoved  and  stupid  as 
bufialoes,  while  your  brother  is  being  outraged,  your  cus- 
toms are  set  at  naught,  and  your  religion  is  trampled 
under  foot !  "  cried  Ackmeth  Khan ;  "  and  you  mumble 
like  so  many  old  women,  instead  of  taking  your  revenge  ! 
Why  don't  you  weep  1  " 

Then  three  times  in  tones  of  deepest  scorn  he 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Cowards !  cowards !  cowards !  " 

"  And  what  can  we  do  1  "  returned  several  voices. 
"The  Russians  have  muskets  and  bayonets." 

"  And  you,  have  you  no  guns  and  poniards  ?     Shame  1 


174  SULTANETTA. 

shame  to  the  Mussulmans!  The  sword  of  Daghestan  tu 
cower  under  the  Muscovite  whip  1 " 

Eyes  flashed. 

Ackmeth  continued :  — 

"  Ah !  you  fear  muskets  and  bayonets,  but  you  do  not 
fear  dishonor.  Between  hell  and  Siberia,  you  choose 
hell.  Did  your  ancestors  behave  in  that  way?  Did 
your  fathers  thmk  as  you  do  1  They  did  not  count  the 
enemy,  but  whatever  their  number,  they  rushed  upon 
them  shouting,  <  Allah ! '  and  if  they  fell,  they  at  least 
fell  with  glory.  Are  the  Russians,  perchance,  of  better 
mettle  than  you?  Have  their  gims  never  turned  but 
their  muzzles  upon  you?  A  bull  is  to  be  taken  by 
the  horns,  wretches !  A  scorpion  is  seized  by  the  tail, 
cowards !  " 

And  as  before,  he  three  times  ejaculated,^ 

"  Cowards  !  cowards !  cowards !  " 

This  time  the  insult  struck  the  Tartars  full  in  the  breast. 

**  He  is  right !  "  they  cried ;  "  Ackmeth  Khan  is  rigth ! 
We  are  too  strong  to  take  all  that  from  the  Kussians. 
Free  the  farrier !  free  Alikper !  " 

And,  more  menacing  than  ever,  they  began  to  crowd 
upon  the  soldiers  in  whose  centre  the  smith  was  slioeing 
the  captain's  horse. 

The  revolt  was  growing. 

Satisfied  with  having  brought  matters  to  this  pass,  and 
not  wishing  to  compromise  himself  in  such  a  Bmall  affair, 
Achmeth  Khan  left  two  of  his  noukars  to  egg  on  the 
Tartars,  and  followed  by  the  other  three,  he  pursued  up 
the  mountain  the  shortest  route  leading  to  the  home  of 
Ammalat  Beg. 

The  latter  had  already  regained  his  house,  and  he  waa 
lying  upon  a  divan  smoking  his  khalian. 

On  seeing  Ackmeth  Khan  appear  at  his  threshold,  h« 
toae  and  went  to  meet  him. 


SULTANETTA.  175 

"  May  you  conquer !  "  said  Ackmeth  Khan  to  Amma- 
lat  Beg. 

This  Circassian  greeting  was  uttered  with  so  much  sig- 
nificance that  Ammalat  Beg,  after  embracing  Ackmeth 
Khan,  inquired,  — 

"  Were  you  jesting  or  prophesying  when  you  addressed 
me  just  now,  my  dear  guest?  " 

"  That  depends  on  you,  and  will  be  as  you  please.  The 
heir  of  Tarkovsky's  principality  has  only  to  draw  his 
sword  —  " 

"  Never  to  sheath  it  again,  khan !  " 

Then,  shaking  his  head,  he  continued,^ 

"  It  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  me.  It  is  much  better 
to  be  the  quiet  and  undisputed  lord  of  Bouinaky  than  to 
be  hiding  in  the  mountains  like  an  outlaw. " 

"Or  like  a  lion,  Ammalat.  Lions,  too,  live  in  the 
mountains  to  be  free." 

The  young  man  sighed. 

"  It  is  much  better  to  dream  on  without  waking,  Ack- 
meth, —  I  am  asleep,  do  not  wake  me." 

"  It  is  the  Russians  who  are  administering  the  opium 
that  puts  you  to  sleep;  and,  in  your  lethargy,  another 
culls  the  golden  fruits  of  your  garden." 

"  What  can  I  do  with  the  small  force  that  I  have  ?  " 

"  Force  lies  in  the  soul,  Ammalat.  Do  but  dare,  and 
everything  will  give  way  before  you." 

Then,  assuming  a  listening  attitude,  he  added,  — 

"  Hark  !  there's  another  voice  besides  mine  calling  on 
you  to  arouse  yourself;  it  is  victory's !  " 

In  fact,  the  sound  of  a  lively  fusillade  reached  the  ears 
of  the  two  princes. 

At  that  moment  Sophy r  Ali  entered  the  room,  his  face 
pale  and  agitated. 

"  Do  you  hear,  chamkal  ?  "  said  he.     "  Bouinaky  is  in 


176  SULTANETTA. 

revolt.  A  mob  has  surrounded  the  company  of  Bussians 
and  the  Tartars  are  firing  on  the  soldiers." 

"  Ah  !  the  rascals !  "  cried  Ammalat  Beg,  springing  foi 
his  gun.  "  How  have  they  dared  do  such  a  thing  with- 
out me!  Run  on,  Sophyr  Ali;  command  them  in  my 
name  to  keep  quiet,  and  kill  the  first  who  disobeys." 

"I  tried  to  quiet  them,"  answered  the  yoimg  man; 
**  but  they  would  not  listen.  Ackmeth  Khan's  noukars  are 
there  urging  them  on,  shouting,  *  Kill  the  Bussians !  *  " 

"  Did  my  noukars  really  shout  that  t  "  asked  Ackmeth 
Khan,  with  a  smile. 

"  They  not  only  shouted  that,  but  they  set  the  example 
by  shooting  first, "  said  Sophyr  AIL 

"  In  that  case,"  remarked  Ackmeth  Khan,  "  they  are 
brave  men,  and  they  can  take  a  hint  when  it  is  given  to 
them." 

"'What  have  you  done,  Ackmeth  Khan  t  "  remonstrated 
Ammalat  Beg,  sorrowfully. 

"  What  you  should  have  done  long  ago." 

"  How  shall  I  face  the  Bussians  now  t  " 

"  With  ball  and  kandjiar.  Fate  is  at  work  for  you, 
happy  rebel.  Come,  out  with  our  schaskas  and  let  us 
fall  upon  the  Bussians!  " 

"  Here  they  are  I  "  thundered  the  captain,  bursting  into 
the  room  with  two  men,  so  rapidly  had  he  climbed  the 
mountain  slope  which  led  to  Ammalat's  house. 

Then,  turning  to  his  two  men,  he  said,  — 

"  Guard  the  doors,  there,  and  see  that  no  one  goes  out." 

The  soldiers  obeyed. 

Annoyed  at  this  unexpected  revolt  in  which  he  could 
very  easily  be  implicated,  although  he  had  not  taken  the 
slightest  hand  in  it,  Ammalat  advanced  to  the  captain 
and  in  a  friendly  tone,  contrasting  with  the  angry  ao 
cents  of  the  other,  he  inquired  in  Tartar  speech,  — 


SULTANETTA.  177 

"  Do  you  bring  peace  into  my  house,  brother  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  bringing  into  your  house, 
Ammalat, "  said  the  captain ;  "  but  I  do  know  the  kind 
of  reception  I  am  getting  in  your  village;  I  am  received 
as  an  enemy,  and  your  men  liave  fired  on  the  soldiers  of 
my  —  your  —  of  our  common  emperor. " 

They  have  done  wrong  to  fire  on  the  E-ussians,"  inter- 
posed Ackmeth  Khan  reclining  indolently  among  the 
cushions  of  the  divan  and  drawing  a  whiflf  at  the  khalian 
abandoned  by  Ammalat  Beg ;  "  they  have  not  done  well, 
unless  every  shot  has  killed  its  man." 

"  See,  there  lies  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief, 
Ammalat !  "  cried  the  captain  angrily,  pointing  at 
Ackmeth  Khan.  "  But  for  him  everything  would  be 
quiet  in  Bouinaky.  Really,  you  are  a  fine  one, 
Ammalat.  You  call  yourself  the  friend  of  the  Russians, 
and  receive  their  enemy  as  your  guest  !  You  conceal 
him  like  an  accomplice  !  Ammalat  Beg,  in  the  name 
of  the  emperor,  I  demand  that  you  deliver  up  this  man 
to  me." 

"  Captain, "  replied  Ammalat  gently  but  firmly,  "  you 
know  that  with  us  a  guest  is  sacred.  It  would  be  crimi- 
nal in  me  to  deliver  up  my  guest.  Do  not  insist ;  have 
some  regard  for  our  customs,  and,  if  I  must  say  it,  for 
my  entreaty." 

"  And  I  say,  Ammalat,  duty  before  custom ;  hospitality 
is  sacred,  but  the  oath  is  still  more  sacred.  The  oath 
forbids  our  defrauding  justice  of  even  our  own  brother,  if 
that  brother  is  a  criminal." 

"  I  would  sooner  betray  my  brother  than  my  guest, 
captain.  Besides,  it  is  not  for  you  to  dictate  to  me 
what  course  I  shall  follow.  If  I  sin,  Allah  and  the 
padishah  will  judge  me.  Let  the  Prophet  guard  the 
khan  on  mountain  or  plain :  once  there,  I  have  nothing 

12 


178  SULTANETTA. 

to  say ;  but  liere,  under  my  own  roof,  it  is  my  duty  to 
defend  liim, "  and,  added  the  young  prince  resolutely,  "  I 
shall  defend  him. " 

"  Then  you  countenance  a  traitor  ?  "  the  captain  asked. 
Ackmeth  Khan  had  taken  no  part  in  the  controversy ; 
he  smoked  his  khaliau  as  placidly  as  if  some  other  per- 
son were  in  question ;  but  at  the  word  traitor,  he  bounded 
rather  than  rose  to  his  feet,  and  approaching  the  captain 
he  said,  ^ 

"  You  call  me  a  traitor;  say  rather  that  I  might  have 
been  a  traitor  to  those  to  whom  I  should  be  faithful. 
The  Russian  padishah  bestowed  power  on  me,  and  I  was 
grateful  to  him  as  long  as  he  did  not  demand  the  impos- 
sible. I  was  desired  to  admit  the  Russian  troops  into 
Avario,  to  permit  them  to  build  fortresses  there.  What 
would  you  have  called  me  then,  had  I  betrayed  the  blood 
and  the  liberties  of  those  over  whom  Allah  had  set  me  as 
father  and  chief  T  But,  had  I  so  wished,  I  could  not 
have  succeeded;  thousands  of  poniards  would  have 
pierced  my  heart;  the  rocks  would  have  wrenched  them- 
selves from  their  places  and  fallen  upon  my  head.  I 
held  myself  aloof  from  the  friendship  of  the  Russians, 
but  I  was  not  yet  their  enemy.  What  reward  had  I  for 
my  forbearance  ?  I  was  insulted  by  a  letter  from  one  of 
your  generals.  He  paid  dearly  for  that  insult  at  BacklL 
For  a  few  words,  I  spilled  a  river  of  blood,  and  that 
river  of  blood  separates  you  and  me  forever. " 

**  And  that  blood  cries  for  vengeance !  **  yelled  the  in- 
furiated captain ;  "  vengeance  which  you  shall  not  escape, 
miscreant !  " 

And  he  moved  as  if  to  seize  Ackmeth  Khan  by  the 
throat. 

But  before  his  hand  could  touch  the  mountain  chief* 
tain,  the  latter's  kandjiar  was  buried  deep  in  his  vitals. 


SULTANETTA.  179 

Without  uttering  a  syllable,  without  breathing  a  sigh, 
the  captain  fell  dead  on  the  carpet. 

Then,  drawing  his  pistol  from  his  belt  with  the  same 
rapidity  and  snatching  Ammalat  Beg's  from  his, 
Ackmeth  Khan,  with  two  shots  as  swift  as  a  flash,  as 
deadly  as  lightning,  laid  at  his  feet  the  two  Russians  who 
were  guarding  the  door. 

Ammalat  Beg  saw  him  do  it  without  having  time  to 
avert  this  threefold  murder. 

"  You  have  ruined  me,  Ackmeth, "  said  he,  mournfully. 
"  That  man  was  a  Russian  and  he  was  my  guest." 

"  There  are  some  offences  that  the  roof  does  not  cover, 
chamkal, "  said  the  khan  ;  "  but  this  is  no  time  for  argu- 
ment: let  us  shut  the  doors,  summon  your  men  and 
march  upon  the  enemy." 

"  An  hour  ago  they  were  not  my  enemies, "  said 
Ammalat  Beg,  "  and  now  how  would  you  have  me  march 
against  them  ?  I  have  no  powder,  I  have  no  balls,  and  my 
men  are  scattered." 

"  The  Russians  !  the  Russians  !  "  cried  Sophyr  Ali, 
rushing  in,  and  paling  with  horror  at  sight  of  the  three 
bodies. 

"  Come  with  me,  Ammalat, "  said  the  khan.  "  I  was 
going  into  Tchetchina  to  arouse  them  over  the  border; 
what  will  come  of  it,  God  knows  !  But  there  is  bread 
and  water  in  the  mountains,  and  powder  and  shot.  That 
is  all  a  mountaineer  needs.     What  say  you  ?  " 

"  Let  us  be  off,  then, "  answered  Ammalat,  his  decision 
made.  *'  Nothing  but  flight  is  left  for  me.  You  are 
right,  it  is  no  time  for  recrimination  and  reproach.  My 
horse  and  six  noukars  to  go  with  me,  Sophyr  Ali,  —  " 

"  And  I,  and  I,  too  1  "  said  the  young  man,  interrupt- 
ing him  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  No.    You,   my  dear  Sophyr,   must  remain  here  to 


180  SDLTANETTA. 

watch  that  the  house  is  not  plundered.  Convey  my  salu- 
tation.s  to  my  wife  and  take  her  to  her  father's.  Do  not 
forget  me.     Farewell !  " 

And,  as  Ackmeth  Khan  and  Ammalat  went  out  at  one 
door,  the  Russians  came  in  at  another. 


SULTANETTA.  181 


m 


A  SULTRY  noon  of  spring  hung  over  the  Caucasus. 

The  muezzins'  voices  were  calling  the  people  of  Tchet- 
china  to  prayer,  and  their  droning  monotones,  after  hav- 
ing awakened  for  an  instant  an  echo  in  the  rocks,  little 
by  little  died  away  on  the  still  air. 

The  mullah,  Hadji  Soleiman,  a  pious  Turk,  sent  into 
the  mountains  by  the  divan  of  Stamboul  to  strengthen 
the  faith  of  the  mountaineers  and  at  the  same  time  to 
incite  them  to  revolt  against  the  Russians,  was  reposing 
on  the  roof  of  the  mosque,  having  performed  his  ablu- 
tions and  prayers.  Only  a  short  time  prior  to  this,  he 
had  been  appointed  mullah  of  the  village  of  the  Tchetchen- 
Igalis,  and  this,  without  doubt,  was  the  reason  why  he 
80  solemnly  contemplated  his  beard,  and  so  seriously 
watched  the  wreaths  of  smoke  curling  from  his  chibouk. 

Moreover,  from  time  to  time  his  eye  dwelt  with  satis- 
faction on  the  black  mouths  of  two  or  three  caves  hollowed 
out  of  the  rock  just  in  front  of  him. 

At  his  left  rose  the  crests  of  the  range  separating 
Tchetchina  from  Avarie,  and  beyond  them  towered  the 
snowy  peaks  of  the  Caucasus.  The  cottages  scattered 
over  the  slopes  descended  in  cascade-like  groups  half-way 
down  the  mountain-side,  where  they  stopped,  forming  a 
fortress  accessible  only  by  narrow  paths,  and,  created  by 
nature,  providing  the  mountaineers  with  an  ark  of  safety 
for  their  liberties. 

All  was  quiet  within  the  village  and  on  the  neighbor 
ing  mountains;  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen  on  highway  or 


182  SULTANETTA. 

by-way.  Flocks  of  sheep  had  sought  the  shade  of  the 
ravines;  buflfaloes  were  huddled  together  in  a  narrow 
muddy  stream,  and,  embedded  in  its  mire,  only  their 
heads  were  exhibited  above  the  water.  The  faint  buzz- 
ing of  insects,  the  monotonous  chirp  of  the  cricket,  were 
the  only  signs  of  life  that  nature  submitted  amid  the 
mournful  stillness  of  the  mountains,  and,  lying  under  the 
cupola,  Hadji  Soleiman  was  admiring,  with  the  calm  per- 
taining only  to  a  reposeful  people,  that  inert  splendor  of 
nature,  so  harmonious  with  the  indolence  of  the  Mussul- 
man. He  was  all  but  closing  his  eyes,  in  whose  wavering 
sight  the  fire  and  light  of  the  sun  seemed  to  have  been 
extinguished,  when,  through  that  blurred  vision,  he 
became  conscious  of  two  horsemen  who  were  clambering 
slowly  up  the  mountain  opposite  the  one  with  the  hollow 
caverns. 

"  Nephtali !  **  called  the  mullah,  turning  toward  the 
cottage  nearest  the  mosque,  and  before  whose  door  was  a 
saddled  horse. 

At  this  call,  a  handsome  Circassian,  his  beard  short 
without  being  shaved,  his  head  covered  by  a  papak  that 
concealed  half  of  his  face,  appeared  in  the  street. 

"  I  see  two  horsemen, "  continued  the  mullah ;  "  and 
they  are  skirting  the  village." 

"  They  are  Jews  or  Armenians, "  answered  Nephtali. 
'*  For  economy's  sake  they  have  not  been  willing  to  hire 
a  guide,  and  they  will  break  their  necks  on  the  path 
which  they  have  undertaken;  none  but  wild  goats  and 
Tchetchina's  best  riders  follow  that  trail." 

"No,  brother  Nephtali,"  said  the  mullah.  "I  have 
made  two  trips  to  Mecca,  and  I  know  Jews  and  Arme- 
nians perfectly  well.  These  horsemen  are  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other.  If  they  were  Jews  or  Armenians,  they 
would  be  coming  on  commercial  business,  and  would  have 


SULTANETTA.  183 

baggage ;  but,  do  you  look,  —  your  eyes  are  young  and, 
consequently,  keener  than  mine.  I  could  once,"  con- 
tinued the  mullah,  "  at  a  verst's  distance  have  counted 
the  buttons  on  a  Russian  soldier's  uniform,  and  the  ball 
that  I  aimed  at  the  infidel  never  missed  its  mark;  but 
to-day,  at  the  same  distance,  I  can  hardly  tell  a  buffalo 
from  a  horse." 

And  he  heaved  a  sigh. 

While  he  was  speaking,  rather  to  himself  than  to 
his  companion,  the  latter  had  quickly  ascended  to  him, 
and  was  scanning  the  travellers,  who  continued  to  ap- 
proach. 

"  The  day  is  warm,  and  travel  is  fatiguing, "  said  the 
mullah ;  "  invite  these  two  travellers  to  refresh  themselves 
and  rest  their  horses.  Perhaps  they  have  some  news. 
The  Koran  tells  us  to  welcome  the  wayfarers." 

"  Even  before  the  Koran  had  penetrated  our  moun- 
tains," said  Nephtali,  "never  did  a  traveller  leave  the 
village  without  resting  in  it  and  receiving  refreshment ; 
never  did  he  say  good-by  without  a  blessing,  or  set  out 
without  a  guide  for  the  rest  of  his  journey ;  yet  I  feel 
suspicious  of  these  travellers.  Why  do  they  avoid 
friendly  people  1  and,  instead  of  going  tlirough  the  ham- 
let, why  do  they  pass  at  one  side  at  the  risk  of  their 
lives?" 

"  At  any  rate,  they  seem  to  me  to  be  compatriots, " 
s?id  Hadji  Soleiman,  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  to 
ward  off  the  sun's  rays.  "  They  wear  the  Tchetchen 
garb;  perhaps,  again,  these  are  the  two  brothers  bound 
by  an  oath  to  avenge  blood  by  blood." 

"  No,  Soleiman, "  said  the  young  man,  shaking  his 
head ;  •'*  no,  these  men  are  none  of  ours.  No  mountaineer 
would  come  here  expressly  to  boast  of  a  fight  with  the 
Russians  and  to  show  their  weapons,     Neither  are  they 


184  SULTANETTA. 

(ibrecks  ;  *  the  abrecks^  were  they  passing  through  a  vil- 
lage of  their  bitterest  enemies,  would  not  draw  their 
bachliks '  over  their  faces.  The  garb  sometimes  de- 
ceives, hadji;  who  knows  but  what  these  are  Russian 
deserters  1  Not  long  ago  a  Cossack  escaped  from  the 
hamlet  of  Goumbet  after  killing  the  master  of  the  house 
where  he  lived,  and  stealing  his  horse  and  weapons. 
The  devil  is  very  crafty,  and  often  the  strongest  will 
yield  to  temptation." 

"  There  is  no  strength  where  the  faith  is  weak,  Neph- 
tali ;  but  stay,  I  see  curls  below  the  papak  of  the  second 
horseman." 

"  May  I  be  ground  to  powder  if  it  is  not  so !  "  ex- 
claimed Nephtall.  "  He  is  a  Russian,  or,  worse  still,  a 
Shiite  Tartar.'  Wait,  wait,  I  will  frizzle  his  curly  locks 
for  him.  I  shall  return  in  half  an  hour,  Soleiman.  In 
half  an  hour  they  shall  either  be  our  guests,  or  one  of 
us  shall  measure  the  height  of  the  precipice." 

Nephtali  quickly  descended  the  stairs,  took  his  gun, 
sprang  to  horse,  and  dashed  off  at  full  gallop  over  the 
mountain,  unmindful  alike  of  rocks  and  ravines.  But 
in  the  distance  the  stones  could  be  seen  flying  like  dust 
behind  this  daring  rider. 

"  Allah  akbar !  "  said  the  hadji  proudly,  as  he  re- 
lighted his  extinguished  chibook. 

Nephtali  soon  overtook  the  two  riders.  Their  horses, 
jaded,  and  covered  with  foam,  were  raining  sweat  upon 
the  narrow  path  along  which  they  were  toiling  up  the 
mountain.      One  rider  wore  the  Tchepsour's  coat  of  mail, 

*  The  ahreekt  are  moantaineen  who  hare  taken  oath  to  ooort 
peril,  and  who  conaeqTientljr  tue  no  precantion  to  aroid  it 

«  Hood*. 

*  Mmwnlmanii  are  dirided  into  two  hoetile  sects,  —  Sonnites  and 
Shiitee ;  Nephtali  and  Soleiman  are  Snnnitea. 


SULTANETTA.  185 

the  other,  tlie  Circassian  costume;  only,  at  variance  with 
this  costume,  a  Persian  sabre  instead  of  a  schaska  was 
suspended  from  the  rich  girdle  wound  around  his  person. 

Their  faces  could  not  be  seen,  their  bachliks  being 
drawn  down;  perhaps  they  desired  protection  from  the 
sun,  perhaps  they  did  not  desire  to  be  recognized 

Nephtali  followed  behind  them  along  the  narrow  path 
on  the  verge  of  the  precipice ;  but,  the  path  becoming  a 
little  wider,  he  went  ahead  and  barred  the  way. 

"  Salaam  aleikoum!  "  said  he,  resting  his  loaded  gun 
across  the  saddle. 

The  first  of  the  two  strangers  raised  his  bachlik,  but 
only  enough  to  see  without  being  seen, 

"  Aleikoum  salaavi !  "  he  responded,  detaching  his  gun 
and  rising  in  the  stirrups. 

"  God  grant  you  safe  conduct !  "  continued  Nephtali, 
getting  ready  to  slay,  at  the  first  hostile  movement,  the 
traveller  for  whom  he  asked  God's   protection. 

"  As  for  you, "  answered  the  unknown  in  the  coat  of 
mail,  "  God  grant  you  enough  intelligence  to  keep  you 
from  barricading  a  traveller's  path  another  time.  What 
do  you  want,  kounack  ?  "  * 

"  To  profier  rest  and  refreshment  for  yourselves,  and  a 
stable  for  your  horses.  There  is  ever  room  in  my  house 
for  guests.  The  wayfarer's  blessing  multiplies  the  flocks. 
Cast  not  upon  our  village  the  reproach  that  any  have 
passed  without  stopping." 

"  Thanks,  brother.  We  have  not  come  into  the  moun- 
tains to  visit;  we  are  in  haste." 

"Be  warned!"  replied  Nephtali;  "you  ride  to  meet 
danger  unless  you  take  a  guide. " 

"  A  guide  ?  "  repeated  the  traveller,  with  a  laugh ;  "  a 
guide  in  the  Caucasus?  Why,  I  know  the  mountain 
1  Brother,  comrade. 


186  8ULTANETTA. 

much  better  than  any  of  you ;  I  have  been  where  jagtiars 
have  not,  where  serpenta  never  crawl,  where  none  but 
eagles  perch.  Stand  aside,  comrade;  your  house  is  not 
on  my  way,  and  I  have  no  time  to  lose  prating  with 
you. " 

"  I  will  not  yield  an  inch, "  answered  the  young  man, 
"  until  I  know  your  name." 

"  Thank  your  stars,  Nephtali,  that  I  knew  your  father; 
I  have  often  ridden  to  battle  by  his  side.  But,  out  of 
my  path,  or,  in  spite  of  the  friendship  I  bear  her,  your 
mother  shall  weep  to-morrow  at  sight  of  shreds  of  her 
son's  flesh  in  the  teeth  of  jackals  and  the  beaks  of  eagles. 
Unworthy  son,  you  are  coursing  the  highways,  seeking 
quarrels  with  travellers,  while  your  father's  bones  are 
bleaching  on  the  Russian  plain  and  the  Cossack  women 
are  selling  his  weapons!  Nephtali,  your  father  was 
killed  yesterday  on  the  other  side  of  the  Terek.  Now, 
since  you  wish  to  know  wlio  I  am,  look  at  me. " 

**  Sultan  Ackmeth  Khan !  "  exclaimed  the  young  Tchet- 
chen,  doubly  agitated  by  the  tidings  he  had  just  received 
and  the  severity  of  the  traveller's  regard. 

"  Yes,  I  am  Ackmeth  Khan, "  replied  the  prince ;  "  but 
bear  in  mind,  Nephtali,  that  if  you  say  to  any  one,  '  I 
have  seen  the  khan  of  Avarie,'  my  vengeance  shall  pur- 
sue your  descendants  even  to  the  last  generation. " 

The  young  man  stood  respectfully  aside,  and  the  travel- 
lers passed  him  by. 

Ackmeth  Khan  again  relapsed  into  the  silence  from 
which  the  young  man's  intrusion  had  aroused  him.  He 
was  plunged  in  sad  reflections.  The  second  traveller, 
Ammalat  Beg, —  for  it  was  he,  —  like  the  khan,  was 
pensive  and  silent.  Their  clothes  bore  traces  of  a  recent 
fight,  their  mustaches  were  powder-singed,  and  smears 
of  blood  had  dried  on  their  faoee.    But  Ackmeth  Khan's 


SULTANETTA.  187 

proud  bearing  seemed  to  challenge  all  nature ;  a  scornful 
smile  played  on  his  lips. 

As  for  Ammalat  Beg,  his  features  wore  a  jaded  look 
of  fatigue.  He  scarcely  glanced  about  him;  but  from 
time  to  time  a  sigh  escaped  his  lips,  wrested  from  him  by 
the  pain  of  a  wounded  hand. 

The  gait  of  his  horse,  little  used  to  the  mountains, 
fretted  as  much  as  it  wearied  him. 

He  was  the  first  to  break  silence. 

"  Why  did  you  refuse  the  invitation  of  that  kind  young 
man  1  "  he  demanded  of  the  khan  of  Avarie.  "  We  could 
have  stopped  an  hour  or  two." 

"  You  think  and  talk  like  a  child,  my  dear  Ammalat, " 
returned  the  khan.  "  You  are  accustomed  to  governing 
Tartars  and  ordering  them  about  like  slaves,  and  you 
think  the  same  course  can  be  pursued  with  the  moun- 
taineers. The  hand  of  fate  lies  heavy  on  us;  we  are 
beaten  and  pursued ;  more  than  a  hundred  mountaineers, 
your  noukars  and  mine,  have  fallen  by  Kussian  balls. 
Would  you  that  we  show  the  Tchetchens  the  vanquished 
Ackmeth  Khan,  whom  they  are  wont  to  look  upon  as 
the  star  of  victory?  Shall  I  appear  before  them  as 
an  outlaw?  Shall  I  confess  my  own  shame?  To 
accept  a  needed  hospitality,  to  submit  myself  to  re- 
proaches for  the  deaths  of  husbands  and  sons  drawn  by 
me  into  this  engagement,  is  to  lose  their  confidence.  In 
time,  their  tears  will  dry;  then  Ackmeth  Khan  will 
reappear  before  them,  the  prophet  of  pillage  and  blood, 
and  I  will  then  lead  them  again  to  battle  on  the  Russian 
frontiers.  Were  the  desperate  Tchetchens  to  catch  sight 
of  me  to-day,  they  would  not  recollect  that  Allah  alone 
dispenses  and  withholds  victory.  They  might  insult  me 
with  some  imprudent  speech,  and  I  have  never  forgiven 
an  insult;  in  that  case,  a  petty  personal  vengeance  might 


188  8ULTANETTA. 

thrust  itself  across  my  patli  on  some  day  wlien  I  am  set- 
ting out  against  the  ranks  of  the  Russians.  Wliy  should 
I  quarrel  unnecessarily  with  a  brave  people  f  Wliy 
should  I  myself  prostrate  the  idol  of  glory  upon  which 
they  are  accustomed  to  gaze  with  dazzled  eyes  t  If  I  de- 
scend to  the  common  ranks,  every  man  will  begin  to 
measure  his  shoulder  by  mine.  As  for  you,  you  are  in 
need  of  a  physician,  and  you  will  find  none  better  than 
mine.  To-morrow  we  shaU  be  at  home ;  keep  up  your 
courage  till  then." 

Ammalat  Beg  carried  his  hand  in  graceful  acknowl- 
edgment to  heart  and  brow ;  he  recognized  the  force  of 
the*  khan's  words,  but  he  was  weak  from  loss  of  blood. 

Continuing  to  avoid  the  villages,  they  spent  the  night 
among  the  Tartar  rocks,  eating  a  little  rice  and  honey,  — 
provisions  without  which  a  mountaineer  never  under- 
takes a  journey,  however  short  it  may  be.  They  crossed 
the  Koissu  by  the  bridge  near  Schert^.  They  left  be- 
hind them  Andi,  Boulins,  and  the  ridge  of  the  Salatahur. 
Their  way  lay  through  forests  and  along  precipices  appall- 
ing to  both  sight  and  soul.  At  last  they  began  to  ascend 
the  range  that  separated  them  on  the  north  from  Khun- 
eack,  the  capital  of  the  khan.  To  reach  the  summit  of 
this  ridge,  the  travellers  were  obliged  to  purstie  diagonal 
paths,  continually  doubling  on  their  tracks,  but  at  each 
step  gaining  somewhat  on  the  height.  The  khan's  horse, 
bom  to  the  mountains  and  accustomed  to  these  arduous 
trails,  stepped  cautiously ;  but  Ammalat  Beg's  young  and 
spirited  charger  kept  stumbling  and  falling  at  every 
step.  His  master's  favorite,  and  pampered  by  him,  he 
was  unequal  to  such  a  forced  march  in  the  mountains. 
Under  a  blazing  sun,  amidst  fields  of  snow,  he  could 
scarcely  gasp,  and  with  violent  effort  his  dilated  nostrils 
appeared  to  breathe  fire,  while  the  foam  tossed  from 
bis  bit. 


SULTANETTA.  189 

**  Allah  hereket !  "  ^  cried  Aminalat  Beg,  as  they  at- 
tained the  culminating  point  of  the  mountain,  whence 
his  gaze  embraced  the  whole  of  Avarie. 

But,  at  the  same  instant,  his  horse  sank  under  him  ; 
the  blood  gushed  from  the  noble  animal's  mouth,  and  his 
last  sigh  burst  the  girth. 

The  khan  assisted  Ammalat  Beg  to  free  himself  from 
his  stirrups;  but  he  saw  with  dismay  that,  in  his  fall, 
the  young  man's  handkerchief  had  slipped  from  the 
wound,  and  the  blood  which  they  had  with  such  difficulty 
stanched  was  flowing  afresh. 

But  this  time  Ammalat  was  unconscious  of  his  pain; 
he  was  weeping  over  his  dead  horse. 

A  drop  is  enough  to  overflow  the  full  cup. 

"  Never  again  will  you  carry  me  like  a  feather  in  the 
wind,  my  brave  charger, "  said  he ;  "  nor  in  a  cloud  of 
dust  in  the  race  while  I  hear  the  shouts  of  those  left 
behind  me,  nor  amidst  cheering  warriors  through  the  fire 
and  smoke  of  battles !  With  you,  I  had  secured  a  horse- 
man's renown ;  why  am  I  condemned  to  survive  my  glory 
and  you  ?  " 

He  bowed  his  head  between  his  knees  and  was  silent, 
while  the  khan  bandaged  his  wound.  Finally,  noticing 
the  care  which  the  khan  was  bestowing  on  him,  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  — 

"  Leave  me,  Ackmeth  Khan,  leave  an  unhappy  man  to 
his  hard  fate.  The  journey  is  not  over,  and  I  yield.  If 
you  remain  with  me,  you  will  needlessly  perish  with  me. 
Look  at  that  eagle  circling  above  us ;  he  knows  that  he 
will  soon  take  my  heart  in  his  claws,  and,  thank  God !  it 
is  better  to  be  entombed  in  the  breast  of  a  noble  bird 
than  trampled  underfoot  by  the  Christians.  Farewell  I 
Leave  me! " 

1  God  be  praised  I 


190  8ULTANETTA. 

**  Are  you  not  ashamed,  Ammalat,  thus  to  succumb 
on  stumbling  against  a  straw?  What  is  your  wovuid? 
What's  a  dead  horse?  In  eight  days  there  will  be 
no  signs'of  your  wound.  We  shall  find  a  better  horse. 
Misfortune  comes  from  Allah,  but  so  does  good  fortune. 
It  is  a  sin  to  despair  when  one  is  young.  Mount  my 
horse,  I  will  lead  liim  by  the  bridle,  and  before  nightfall 
we  shall  be  at  home.  Come,  every  moment  is  precious ; 
come,  time  is  dear." 

"  Time  no  longer  exists  for  me,  Ackmeth  Khan, " 
answered  the  young  man ;  "  I  thank  you  again  for  your 
fraternal  friendship,  but  I  will  not  abuse  it.  We  have 
still  too  far  to  go,  and  we  cannot  walk  so  far.  Leave  me 
to  my  fate.  On  these  heights,  so  near  to  heaven,  I  shall 
die  free  and  content.  My  father  is  dead ;  I  am  wedded 
to  a  wife  whom  I  do  not  love ;  my  uncle  and  my  father- 
in-law  are  on  their  knees  to  the  Russians.  Exiled  from 
home,  flying  from  battle,  I  ought  not,  nor  do  I  wish,  to 
live." 

"  Your  fever  is  speaking,  not  you,  Ammalat ;  your 
words  are  delirium.  Are  we  not  destined  to  survive  our 
parents  ?  As  for  your  wife,  our  holy  religion  gives  you 
the  right  to  take  three  others.  That  you  detest  the 
chamkal,  I  can  understand;  but  you  ought  to  love  his 
inheritance,  which  will  some  day  make  you  a  prince,  and 
independent!  Besides,  a  dead  man  has  no  need  of 
wealth  and  power ;  a  dead  man  takes  no  revenge,  and  it 
is  for  you  to  avenge  yourself  on  the  Russians.  Rouse 
yourself,  if  only  for  that.  We  have  been  overcome ;  are 
we  tlie  first  to  experience  reverses?  To-<lay  the  Rus- 
sians conquer;  to-morrow  it  will  be  our  turn.  Allah 
grants  happiness,  but  man  wins  his  own  renown.  You 
are  wounded  and  weak ;  but  I  am  sound  and  strong.  You 
are  fainting  with  fatigue ;  while  I  am  as  fresh  and  active 


SULTANETTA.  191 

as  a  man  who  has  not  yet  crossed  the  threshold  of  his 
room,  who  has  just  put  on  his  sandals  and  girded  his  loins. 
Mount  my  horse,  Ammalat,  and,  as  sure  as  that  eagle  is 
not  there  to  feast  on  your  heart,  —  look  !  he  is  flying 
away  and  disappearing  in  the  distance,  —  we  will  make 
the  Russians  pay  dearly  for  our  defeat  of  yesterday." 

The  face  of  Ammalat  Beg  brightened. 

"  Well,  yes, "  he  said,  "  you  are  right.  I  will  live  for 
revenge,  —  for  revenge,  open  or  underhanded,  but  terrible, 
remorseless,  deadly.  Believe  me,  Ackmeth  Khan,  it  is 
for  the  sake  of  revenge  that  I  take  up  life  again.  From 
this  moment  I  am  yours,  by  the  tomb  of  my  father!  I 
belong  to  you.  Guide  my  steps,  direct  my  blows,  and, 
if  ever  I  forget  my  oath,  remind  me  of  this  moment,  my 
dead  horse,  my  bleeding  hand,  the  eagle  soaring  above 
my  head.  If  I  fall  asleep,  I  will  waken  and  my  poniard 
shall  strike  like  the  lightning." 

Ackmeth  Khan  embraced  the  young  man,  took  him  in 
his  arms  like  a  child,  and  placed  him  in  the  saddle. 

"  And  now, "  he  said,  "  I  recognize  the  pure  blood  of 
the  emirs  in  you,  —  blood  that  riots  in  our  veins  like 
ignited  saltpetre  which,  once  fired,  blasts  mountains. 
Come  with  me,  Ammalat  Beg,  and  all  that  I  have  prom- 
ised you  Mahomet  will  make  good." 

And,  while  supporting  the  wounded  man,  Ackmeth 
Klian  began  to  descend  the  mountain.  Stones  rolled 
from  beneath  their  feet,  more  than  oi^ce  the  horse  fell; 
but  at  last,  safe  and  sound,  they  reached  the  line  where 
vegetation  began. 

Soon  after,  they  entered  a  forest  of  many  species  of 
trees.  The  luxuriance  of  the  forest  and  the  oppressive 
stillness  of  the  eternal  twilight  reigning  under  this  green 
canopy  impenetrable  to  the  sun's  rays,  inspired  man  with 
respect  for  the  savage  freedom  of  nature. 


192  8ULTANETTA. 

At  times  the  path  threaded  the  forest  trees,  and  again 
it  was  an  escarpment  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  at  whose  foot 
glittered  a  brawling  stream.  Flame-throated  pheasants 
sped  from  bush  to  bush.  Everything  exhaled  that  vivi- 
fying freshness  of  evening  which  is  unknown  to  dwellers 
of  the  plain. 

Our  travellers  had  almost  reached  the  village  of  Akhak, 
which  is  separated  from  Khunsack  only  by  a  small 
mountain,  when  they  heard  a  shot. 

They  halted  apprehensively. 

But  suddenly  Ackmeth  Khan  announced,  — 

"  They  are  my  huntsmen ;  they  are  not  expecting  me 
at  this  hour,  and  especially  in  such  a  plight.  I  occasion 
Khunsack  much  joy  and  many  tears. " 

Ackmetli  Khan  bowed  his  head  and  gave  a  sigh.  His 
brow  became  clouded. 

So  quickly  do  sweet  and  bitter  reflections  succeed  each 
other  in  an  Asiatic's  heart ! 

A  second  shot  was  heard,  then  a  third.  Then  shot 
followed  shot  in  quick  succession. 

"  The  Russians  are  at  Khunsack !  "  cried  Aramalat. 

And  he  drew  his  sword,  and  dug  his  knees  into  his 
horse's  sides,  as  if  at  a  single  leap  he  would  clear  the  dis- 
tance that  intervened  between  him  and  them. 

But  the  effort  overpowered  him ;  the  sword  slipped 
from  his  mutilated  hand  and  fell  to  the  earth. 

As  for  him,  he  exerted  his  remaining  strength  to  dis- 
mount from  the  horse. 

*'  Ackmeth  Khan, "  said  he,  "  hasten  to  the  aid  of  your 
people ;  your  presence  will  avail  more  than  the  help  of  a 
hundred  cavalrymen. " 

But  Ackmeth  Khan  paid  no  attention ;  he  was  listen- 
ing to  the  whistling  balls  as  if  he  would  distinguish  those 
of  the  Russians  from  those  of  his  own  warriors. 


SULTANETTA.  193 

"  How  came  they  down  there  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Are  they 
thamois-f ooted ?  have  they  eagles'  wings?  Farewell, 
Ammalat,  I  will  go  and  die  on  the  ruins  of  my  own 
fortresses. " 

But  just  then  a  ball  fell  at  his  feet. 

He  picked  it  up,  and,  smiling,  said  composedly,  — 

"  Remount  my  horse,  Ammalat.  You  will  soon  know 
what  that  means ;  the  Russian  bullets  are  lead,  and  this  is 
copper. " 

Then,  looking  at  the  ball,  he  said, — 

"  This  blessed  ally  !  it  has  come  from  where  the 
Russians  cannot,  — from  the  south." 

They  proceeded  to  ascend  the  small  hill  that  separated 
them  from  Khunsack. 

Reaching  the  summit,  they  gazed  down  upon  a  veri- 
table field  of  battle,  beyond  which  rose  the  hamlet  of 
Khunsack,  overlooked  by  the  two  towers  of  the  castle  of 
Ackmeth  Khan. 

A  hundred  men,  divided  into  two  factions,  were  firing 
upon  each  other  under  cover  of  houses  standing  in  front 
of  great  masses  of  rock  or  concealed  behind  them ;  while 
the  women,  unveiled,  with  babes  in  their  arms  and  their 
hair  flying,  mingled  with  the  combatants  and  urged  them 
on. 

Ammalat  Beg  regarded  this  spectacle  with  astonish- 
ment, and  looked  inquiringly  at  the  Khan. 

"  Tliat  surprises  you !  "  he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders; 
'*  it  is  common  with  us.  Down  in  the  plain,  when  a  man 
has  a  grudge  against  another  man,  he  gives  him  a  knife- 
thrust,  and  all  is  over;  in  the  mountain,  one  man's  quar- 
rel is  every  man's  quarrel.  The  reason  of  all  that 
uproar?  A  trifle,  very  likely  ;  perhaps  a  cow  has  been 
stolen.  With  us  it  is  no  disgrace  to  steal ;  the  disgrace 
is  to  let  oneself  be  robbed,   that  is  all.     Admire  the 

13 


194  SULTAN  ETTA. 

courage  of  those  women,  Ammalat, "  pursued  the  khan 
excitedly,  inhaling  tlie  powder-smoke  with  dilated  nos- 
trils. "  The  halls  whiz  past  their  ears ;  death  flaps  her 
wings  above  their  heads,  and  they  laugh  at  her.  Oh, 
those  are  the  mothers  and  wives  of  brave  men,  and  truly 
it  would  be  a  pity  were  misfortune  to  overtake  them  I  I 
am  just  in  time  to  stop  this  game." 

And,  taking  his  gun,  he  advanced  to  the  highest  part  of 
the  ridge  and  discharged  it  into  the  air. 

At  that  shot,  coming  from  a  direction  whence  it  was 
not  expected,  the  combatants  faced  about  in  amazement. 

Then,  with  his  left  hand,  Ackmeth  Khan  put  back  his 
bachlik. 

There  rose  a  great  shout  from  both  factions.  The 
combatants  had  recognized  him. 

"  Keep  your  powder  and  balls  for  the  Russians,  men  of 
Khunsack, "  he  cried ;  "  not  another  shot.  I  will  judge 
your  difference,  and  give  justice  to  him  that  is  right  and 
his  deserts  to  him  that  is  wrong. " 

But  the  khan's  order  was  not  needed  for  putting  an 
end  to  the  conflict ;  their  joy  at  seeing  him  again  was  so 
great  that  all  resentment  seemed  to  be  forgotten. 

Men  and  women  ran  headlong  toward  him,  crying,  — 

"  Long  live  Ackmeth  Khan !  " 

"  That  is  well,  that  is  well,  my  children  I  "  responded 
Ackmeth  Khan.  "  I  will  descend  to-morrow  to  the  pub- 
lic square  and  speak  to  the  old  men ;  but  I  bring  back  a 
wounded  friend  who  is  in  need  of  prompt  relief;  do  not 
hinder  me  then,  for  such  relief  he  will  And  only  at  my 
house." 

And,  indeed,  Ammalat  Beg  saw  nothing  of  what  was 
passing  except  as  through  a  mist;  he  had  abandoned  the 
horse's  bridle  to  maintain  himself  in  the  saddle. 

In  an  instant  they  were  shaping  a  litter  from  their 


SULTANETTA.  195 

guns,  all  powder-blackened  and  hot  from  the  fray. 
Friends  and  enemies  joined  together  in  spreading  their 
bourkas  across  it.  They  laid  the  wounded  man  upon  it; 
and  Ackmeth  Khan  remounted  his  horse,  as  became  a 
prince  returning  to  his  own  stronghold. 

Ammalat  Beg  was  laid  on  the  khan's  softest  rugs. 
He  had  fainted  entirely  away. 


196  SULTAN  ETTA. 


IV. 


The  wounded  man  did  not  regain  consciousness  until 
tlic  next  day. 

His  ideas  then  returned  to  him  like  phantoms  floating 
in  mist. 

He  remembered  nothing ;  he  felt  no  pain. 

This  condition  was  agreeable  rather  than  unpleasant. 
His  torpor  divested  life  of  its  sensibility  and,  conse- 
quently, of  its  bitterness. 

He  would  have  answered  with  equal  indifference  a 
summons  to  either  life  or  death.  He  had  neither  the 
strength  nor  the  desire  to  utter  a  word.  Had  his  exist- 
ence depended  on  a  movement  of  the  hand,  he  would 
not  have  taken  the  trouble  to  lift  a  finger. 

This  condition  did  not  last  long,  however. 

At  noon,  after  the  doctor's  visit,  when  all  the  ser- 
vants of  the  khan  were  at  prayer,  and  he  himself,  accord- 
ing to  his  promise  of  the  day  before,  had  descended  to 
the  market-place,  Ammalat  Beg,  left  alone,  thought  he 
heard  light  and  timid  steps  crossing  the  carpet  of  the 
room  leading  to  his  own. 

With  an  effort  he  essayed  to  turn  his  head;  and  he 
must  have  succeeded  in  so  doing,  for  he  fancied  he  saw, 

—  he  was  too  weak  to  distinguish  between  fact  and  fancy, 

—  he  fancied,  we  repeat,  that  he  saw  the  portiere  of  his 
room  lifted,  and  a  young  girl  with  black  eyes,  in  a  yellow 
silk  robe  confined  by  a  red  arkalouke  decorated  with  but- 
tons of  enamel,  with  long  black  hair  falling  upon  her 


SULTANETTA.  197 

shoulders,  who  very  softly  approached  his  bed,  bending 
over  him  with  sweet  and  tender  solicitude  to  look  at  his 
wounded  hand.  Ammalat  Beg,  fanned  by  her  breath, 
brushed  by  her  raiment,  felt  a  thrill  of  fire  course  his 
veins ;  then  she  poured  the  contents  of  a  vial  into  a  tiny 
silver  cup,  passed  her  arm  under  his  head,  raised  it, 
and  — 

Ammalat  felt  nothing  more,  saw  nothing  more;  his 
weighted  eyelids  sank  again;  all  his  senses  seemed  blended 
into  a  single  one. 

He  listened. 

He  listened,  and  the  rustling  of  the  young  girl's  robe 
seemed  to  him  the  rustling  of  angel's  wings. 

But,  this  angel  was  flying  away  — 

All  became  quiet  again;  and  when  the  eyes  of  the 
wounded  man  reopened,  he  was  alone,  and  it  was  impos- 
sible for  him  to  invest  his  vision  with  any  shadow  of 
substance.  Fragmentary  trains  of  thought,  floating  like 
clouds  in  the  immensity  of  space,  were  lost  in  feverish 
dreams ;  and  as  soon  as  he  could  utter  a  word,  he  said  to 
himself,  — 

"  It  was  a  dream." 

He  was  deceived. 

What  he  believed  to  be  a  creation  of  delirium  was  a 
maid  of  sixteen,  the  daughter  of  Ackmeth  Khan. 

Among  the  mountaineers,  even  when  Mussulmans, 
young  girls  enjoy  infinitely  greater  freedom  among  men 
than  do  married  women,  although  the  Mohammedan  law 
prescribes  exactly  to  the  contrary. 

Now,  Ackmeth  Khan's  daughter  enjoyed  even  greater 
freedom  than  others,  as  it  was  only  with  her  at  his  side 
that  her  father  could  rest  from  his  fatigue ;  only  with  her 
did  he  unbend  his  brows  in  a  smile.  It  meant  salvation 
to  the  culprit  if  the  yoimg  princess  were  but  present  when 


198  SULTANETTA. 

sentence  was  pronounced ;  the  uplifted  ax  was  arrested  in 
air.  To  lier  everything  was  granted,  for  her  everything 
was  possible.  Ackraeth  Khan  knew  not  how  to  deny 
her  anything,  and  a  suspicion  had  never  entered  his  mind 
tliat  the  pure  child  could  do  anything  incompatible  with 
her  duty  or  her  rank.  Besides,  who  could  inspire  her 
with  the  tender  sentiments  which  might  lead  a  young  girl 
to  commit  a  fault  ?  Until  now,  her  father  had  never  re- 
ceived a  guest  who  was  his  equal  in  birth ;  or  rather,  her 
heart  had  never  concerned  itself  as  to  the  rank  or  age  of 
the  guests  who  visited  her  father.  That  fact  of  itself 
had  undoubtedly  prolonged  her  girlhood,  scarcely  yet  out 
of  its  childhood;  but,  since  the  evening  before,  she  had 
been  conscious  of  the  beating  of  her  own  heart.  On  the 
day  before,  as  she  threw  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck, 
she  had  seen  lying  at  his  feet  a  young  man  in  a  swoon, 
almost  dead.  Her  first  feeling  had  been  of  fear,  and  she 
had  turned  her  eyes  away  from  the  wounded  man.  But 
when  her  fatlier  had  related  why  Ammalat  came  to  be 
his  guest,  she  began  to  view  the  young  man  with  looks  of 
melting  pity;  then,  when  the  doctor  had  declared  that 
his  appalling  weakness  was  due  merely  to  loss  of  blood 
and  not  to  the  gravity  of  his  wound,  a  tender  anxiety 
possessed  the  young  girl.  Was  the  doctor  not  deceived  t 
Such  a  gaping,  ghastly  wound  —  was  it  not  more  danger- 
ous than  he  thought  ?  She  went  to  bed,  full  of  this  fear ; 
all  night  in  her  dreams  she  saw  the  handsome  youth 
covered  with  blood ;  more  than  once  she  opened  her  eyes 
in  the  dark,  thinking  she  heard  him  moan ;  and,  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  morning  found  her  less  fresh  than 
the  dawn ;  for  the  first  time,  she  employed  a  ruse  to  gain 
a  wish.  Her  father  was  in  the  wounded  man's  room; 
she  chose  this  moment  to  bid  her  father  good-morning. 
But  Ammalat's  eyes  were  closed,  and  she  could  not  see  his 


SULTANETTA.  199 

eyes.  At  noon  she  returned;  Ammalat  was  alone,  but 
the  dazed  eyes  of  the  young  prince  closed  at  sight  of  her. 
The  poor  child  was  in  despair.  He  must  have  such 
beautiful  eyes !  Never,  in  all  her  girlhood,  had  she  so 
coveted  a  set  of  rich  jewels.  She  would  have  given  two 
diamonds  the  size  of  her  own  eyes  to  open  those  eyes  that 
ought  to  beam  with  a  fire  very  different,  she  thought, 
from  that  of  two  diamonds. 

Finally,  in  the  evening  she  returned  again. 

In  the  evening  for  tlie  first  time  she  encountered  the 
invalid's  wan  but  expressive  clear  eye ;  and,  upon  en-^ 
countering  it,  the  glance  was  not  withdrawn.  She  knew 
very  well  what  those  eyes  were  crying  to  her :  "  Do  not 
go  away,  star  of  my  soul !  Do  you  not  perceive  that  you 
are  my  only  light,  and  that,  departing,  you  will  plunge 
me  into  the  darkness  of  night  ?  " 

She  could  not  comprehend  the  change  that  was  taking 
place  in  herself;  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  tell  whether 
she  was  still  on  earth  or  already  in  heaven.  What  she 
was  experiencing,  she  had  never  experienced  before :  the 
blood  surged  to  her  heart  so  violently  that  she  felt  as  if 
she  were  being  smothered;  it  receded  from  her  heart  so 
quickly  that  she  thought  she  was  dying. 

She  had  seen  the  eyes  of  the  wounded  man,  and  she 
had  discovered  that  they  were  the  most  beautiful  eyes  in 
the  world. 

It  remained  for  her  to  hear  his  voice. 

But  Ammalat  Beg  continued  mute.  Wholly  absorbed 
in  the  contemplation  of  her,  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to 
speak.  What  could  be  said  that  his  eyes  could  not  say 
as  well  as  his  voice  ? 

The  young  girl's  wishes  were  born  in  quick  succession. 
With  such  fine  eyes  he  must  have  a  very  sweet  voice. 
What  a  pity  not  to  hear  that  voice  ! 


200  SULTANETTA. 

Then  an  idea  occurred  to  her:  if  the  young  man  did 
not  speak,  it  was  doubtless  because  he  was  too  weak ;  if 
he  were  too  weak  to  talk,  certainly  the  wound  was 
dangerous,  more  dangerous  than  the  doctor  had  said. 

Surely  she  could  not  go  away  filled  with  such  dire  un- 
certainty ;  and  so  she  determined  to  speak  first.  What 
could  be  simpler  t  It  was  her  duty  to  ask  about  his 
health. 

A  man  would  have  to  be  a  Tartar,  would  have  to  re- 
gard  it  as  insulting  to  address  a  woman,  must  never  have 
seen  aiight  of  one  except  a  veil,  and  through  this  veil  two 
eyebrows  and  perhaps  the  eyes  beneath  them,  in  order  to 
conceive  some  idea  of  the  thriU  that  sped  through  the 
Veins  of  the  wounded  man,  when,  already  pierced  by  her 
eyes,  he  received  the  girl's  voice  full  in  his  heart. 

And  yet  Sultanetta's  words  were  very  simple. 

Her  name  was  Sultanetta. 

"  How  do  you  feel  1  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh !  very  well,  very  well, "  answered  Ammalat  Beg, 
trying  to  rise  on  his  elbow ;  "  so  well  that  I  am  ready  to 
die." 

"  Allah  preserve  you  !  "  cried  the  girl,  in  dismay ; 
**  you  must  live  yet  a  long  time.  Would  you  not  be  sorry 
to  die  1" 

*  To  die  in  a  happy  hour  is  to  die  happy,  Sultanetta ; 
and  were  I  to  live  a  hundred  years,  I  should  never  have 
a  more  fitting  moment  than  this. " 

Sultanetta  did  not  comprehend  her  guest's  speech,  but 
she  understood  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  the  accent  of 
his  voice.  A  flush  tinged  her  cheek,  and,  with  a  sign 
warning  the  young  man  to  lie  back,  she  escaped  from  the 
room. 

Among  the  mountaineers  there  are  certainly  skilful 
curgeona,  especially  those  who  treat  wounds.     They  have 


SULTANETTA.  201 

secret  remedies  for  closing  wounds  that  are  seemingly 
mysterious  revelations  of  nature ;  but  the  most  efficacious 
remedy  acting  on  Ammalat  Beg  was  the  presence  of  the 
charming  Sultanetta.  At  night  he  fell  asleep  with  the 
fond  hope  that  she  would  appear  in  his  dream;  in 
the  morning  he  awoke  to  the  certainty  of  seeing  her  in 
reality.  His  strength  rapidly  returned,  and  with  his 
strength  increased  the  feeling  hitherto  unknown  which  he 
had  experienced  at  sight  of  Ackmeth  Khan's  daughter  on 
that  first  day,  and  which  was  now  so  rooted  in  his  heart 
as  never  again  to  leave  it. 

Ammalat  Beg,  as  we  have  said,  was  married;  but  the 
marriage  was  arranged  just  as  marriages  in  the  Orient  are 
arranged.  Until  the  day  of  his  wedding,  he  had  never 
seen  his  betrothed ;  then,  when  he  did  see  her,  he  found 
her  ugly,  and  every  sentiment  akin  to  youth  and  love  re- 
mained dormant  in  his  heart.  Following  upon  his  mar- 
riage had  come  political  wrangles  with  his  uncle  and  his 
father-in-law.  Tenderness,  which  among  the  Orientals 
appeals  only  to  sensuality,  was  by  degrees  extinguished; 
so  that  his  eyes  on  first  beholding  Sultanetta  had  no 
need  to  demand  from  his  heart  a  sacrifice  of  the  remains 
of  an  old  love.  The  young  man  had  been  married,  but 
his  heart  was  virgin  ground.  Ardent  by  nature,  inde- 
pendent from  habit,  Ammalat  Beg  abandoned  himself 
completely  to  the  sentiment  by  which  he  was  possessed. 
To  be  with  Sultanetta  was  his  supreme  happiness,  and  to 
look  for  her  coming  was  his  sole  occupation  when  she 
was  absent.  He  trembled  on  hearing  her  footsteps ;  he 
was  shaken  at  the  sound  of  her  voice.  Every  tone  filled 
his  being  with  rapture.  What  he  felt  was  like  unto 
pain ;  but  it  was  pain  so  sweet,  an  ill  so  full  of  recom- 
pense, that  for  want  of  this  pain  he  doubted  not  he 
should  die. 


203  8ULTANETTA. 

Doubtless  these  two  young  people,  ignorant  themselves 
of  what  they  were  experiencing,  gave  this  unfamiliar 
sentiment  the  name  of  friendship ;  but,  under  no  restraint, 
they  were  constantly  together.  Khan  Ackmetli  took 
frequent  journeys  in  Avarie,  and  left  his  guest  to  his 
daughter.  He  only  perhaps  was  aware  of  their  love; 
but  this  love  was  the  crown  of  his  desires.  A  first  mar- 
riage, as  he  had  told  Ammalat,  was  nothing  to  a  Mussul- 
man, who  had  the  right  to  espouse  four  wives.  Besides, 
he  knew  the  scant  aflfection  existing  between  the  young 
couple.  To  become  the  father-ui-law  of  Ammalat  Beg, 
that  is,  of  the  heir  of  Chamkal  Tarkovsky,  of  a  man  who 
could  be  of  such  great  assistance  to  him  in  his  war  with 
the  Russians,  was  more  than  a  desire,  it  was  an 
ambition. 

As  for  the  two  lovers,  they  made  no  calculations,  we 
came  near  saying  that  they  had  no  wishes.  They  were 
happy,  asking  nothing  more,  with  no  thought  that  tliis 
happiness  could  end.  The  days  passed  without  their 
knowing  how,  in  looking  through  the  window  at  the 
mountains,  at  the  flocks  of  sheep  on  the  heights,  at  the 
rivers  below.  If  Sultanetta  was  employed  in  embroidering 
her  father's  saddle,  Ammalat  was  reclining  near  her  on 
tlie  cushions,  telling  her  his  youthful  a«iventures,  but 
oftener  without  speaking  a  word,  his  eyes  being  fixed 
upon  hers.  He  thought  not  of  the  past,  nor  dreamed  of 
the  future.  He  only  felt  that  he  was  happy,  and,  with- 
out removing  the  cup  from  his  lips,  he  drank  drop  by 
drop  the  greatest  felicity  on  earth  for  noon, —  to  love  and 
be  loved. 

Thus  the  summer  went  by. 

One  morning,  one  of  the  khan's  shepherds  came  down 
in  great  fright. 

At  daybreak  a  tiger  had  come  out  of  the  forest,  and. 


SULTANETTA.  203 

creeping  along  like  a  cat  towards  the  flock,  had  pounced 
on  a  sheep  and  carried  it  off. 

The  shepherd  told  it  in  the  court,  while  all  the  noukars 
gathered  around  him  in  a  circle. 

"  Well, "  said  the  khan,  "  does  any  one  wish  to  kill  the 
tiger  ?  He  may  carry  my  finest  and  best  gun.  Let  him 
kill  the  tiger,  and  the  weapon  is  his." 

One  of  the  khan's  noukars,  an  excellent  shot,  advanced, 
chose  the  weapon  that  pleased  him  best  among  all  the 
khan's  guns,  and  said, — 

"I  will  go!" 

The  khan  returned,  related  the  incident  to  Sultanetta 
and  Ammalat ;  but  the  young  people  were  so  engrossed  by 
their  love  that  neither  of  them  appeared  to  hear  what 
Ackmeth  Khan  had  said. 

The  next  day,  they  waited  in  vain  for  the  noukar. 

It  was  the  shepherd's  lad  that  came. 

The  boy  told  how,  having  arrived  on  the  mountain 
towards  evening,-  the  noukar  had  discovered  the  tiger's 
path.  The  next  morning  before  daylight  he  lay  in 
ambush  beside  the  trail  that  the  animal  had  taken  on 
leaving  the  forest  to  prowl  for  sheep. 

But  the  tiger  did  not  appear;  yet  he  had  been  heard 
roaring  in  the  forest  about  a  verst  away.  Doubtless  he 
had  not  devoured  in  one  day  the  entire  sheep,  and  had 
sufficient  left  for  his  morning  meal. 

Seeing  that  the  tiger  did  not  appear,  the  noukar  had 
resolved  to  go  in  search  of  him.  He  had  entered  the 
forest.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  boy  had  heard  a 
report,  then  a  roar;  then  all  was  silent. 

He  had  waited  an  hour ;  but  not  seeing  the  man  come 
out  of  the  wood,  he  came  to  tell  what  had  happened. 

According  to  all  probability,  the  man  was  dead. 

They  waited  a  day,  two  days,  three  days:  the  man  had 
not  been  seen. 


204  SULTANETTA. 

On  the  fourth  day  it  was  the  tiger  that  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance, and  he  carried  off  a  second  sheep. 

The  little  herder  ran  in  terror  to  announce  the  ferocious 
brute's  second  attack. 

Tliis  time  it  chanced  that  Sultanetta  was  sprinkling 
the  flowers  in  her  window,  when  the  herder  entered  the 
court. 

Slie  heard  all  that  the  boy  was  saying. 

She  went  back  to  Ammalat  Beg  and  told  him  what 
she  had  just  learned. 

Ammalat  Beg  had  not  listened  to  a  word  of  what 
Ackmeth  Khan  had  said,  but  Sultanetta's  words  were 
too  precious  for  a  single  one  to  he  lost. 

Ackmeth  Khan  entered  just  as  Sultanetta  was  finishing 
her  story. 

"  Well,  **  he  demanded,  "  what  do  you  say  to  that, 
Ammalat  t  " 

"  That  I  have  always  desired  to  go  on  a  tiger-hunt, "  re- 
turned the  young  man,  "  and  that  I  am  grateful  to  Allah 
for  fulfilling  my  desire.  I  will  try  my  luck  against  the 
tiger." 

Sultanetta  looked  at  Ammalat,  pale  but  smiling;  she 
understood,  and,  although  filled  with  apprehension,  she 
was  proud. 

Ackmeth  Khan  shook  his  head. 

"  A  tiger  is  not  the  boar  of  Daghestan,  Ammalat." 

"  Put  me  on  the  tiger's  trail,  and  I  will  follow  it  aa 
though  it  were  a  wild  boar's." 

"  Tiger's  tracks  often  lead  to  death,  **  insisted  Ackmeth 
Khan,  who,  having  begun  to  be  alarmed  at  his  young 
friend's  listlessness,  with  delight  saw  him  emerge  from 
his  lethargy. 

"  Do  you  think  my  head  will  whirl  on  a  slippery  path, 
and  that  I  cannot  go  where  your  noukar  has  been  t     If 


SULTANETTA.  205 

the  heart  of  an  Avare  is  as  stout  as  mountain  granite, 
the  heart  of  a  native  of  Daghestan  is  as  hard  as  her 
steel." 

Smiling,  Ackmeth  Khan  extended  a  hand  to  him. 

"  And  your  heart's  steel,  brother,  will  break  the  tiger's 
teeth  and  the  eagle's  hooked  beak.  And  when  will  you 
start?" 

"  Two  hours  before  dawn." 

"  Very  well, "  said  Ackmeth  Khan ;  "  I  will  find  you  a 
guide." 

"He  is  already  found,"  said  a  voice  behind  the  two 
men. 

Ackmeth  Khan,  turning,  recognized  Nephtali. 

"  Ah !  it  is  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  that  a  tiger  had  eaten  one  of  your  sheep 
and  killed  a  noukar,  and  I  have  come  to  say.  My 
father's  friend,  I  wish  to  prove  that  I  am  good  for  some- 
thing else  than  waylaying  travellers  on  the  mountains  to 
offer  hospitality.     I  have  come  to  slay  the  tiger. " 

"  That  may  be, "  said  Ammalat ;  "  but  you  come  too 
late." 

"  Why  so  1  "  said  the  young  Tchetchen.  "  We  shall 
be  two  on  the  trail  and  two  in  the  fight.  My  father's 
son  is  entitled  to  walk  beside  a  prince,  were  the  prince 
Chamkal  Tarkovsky's  nephew.     Ask  Ackmeth  Khan." 

"  I  need  no  help  to  accomplish  my  undertaking, "  said 
the  young  man  haughtily. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  you  need  no  one,"  said 
Ackmeth ;  "  but  you  are  wrong  to  refuse  the  companion 
who  offers  of  his  own  free  will  to  share  your  danger.  I 
advise  you  to  accept  Nephtali's  offer.  Exchange  vows 
like  two  brave  abrecks,  and  may  Allah  watch  over  you !  " 

Ammalat's  eyes  turned  toward  Sultanetta.  The  young 
girl  was  regarding  him  with  clasped  hands.     She  knew 


206  8ULTANETTA. 

Nephtali  to  be  one  of  the  boldest  and  most  skilful 
hunters  in  the  mouutAin,  and  she  would  not  be  sorry 
that  Anunalat  should  be  accompanied  by  one  of  whose 
courage  she  was  sure. 

**  So  be  it !  "  said  Ammalat. 

And  he  extended  his  hand  to  the  youth. 

Among  the  Avares  and  Tchetchens,  when  two  men 
are  engaging  in  a  common  danger  together,  it  is  their 
custom  to  swear  on  the  Koran  not  to  abandon  each 
other. 

If  one  of  the  two  fails  to  keep  his  oath,  he  is  thrown 
over  a  precipice  with  his  back  to  the  abyss,  as  becomes  a 
coward  and  a  traitor. 

The  two  young  men  descended  to  the  mosque,  and 
took  the  oath  of  abrecks.  The  mullah  blessed  their 
weapons,  and  they  set  out  upon  the  mountain  road  amidst 
the  cheers  of  the  crowd. 

"  Both,  or  neither !  "  cried  the  khan  after  them. 

"  We  will  bring  back  the  tiger's  skin,  or  die, "  re- 
turned the  hunters. 

Ammalat  did  not  say  good-bye  to  Sultanetta;  but,  on 
the  highest  tower  of  the  khan's  palace,  the  young  girl 
stood  waving  her  handkerchief. 

And  the  handkerchief  fluttered  until  the  two  young 
men  had  disappeared  in  the  mountain. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  observe  that  Ammalat  Beg  walked 
behind,  and  was  the  last  to  lose  sight  of  the  village. 


SULTANETTA.  207 


V. 

The  next  day  passed. 

They  did  not  hope  to  have  much  news  of  the  hunters 
for  the  first  twenty-four  hours. 

Then  came  the  following  day,  and  the  night. 

On  that  evening  the  old  men  were  worn  out  with  gaz- 
ing down  the  road. 

They  had  seen  nothing. 

There  was  perhaps  not  a  fireside  in  all  Khunsack  at 
which  the  expedition  of  the  two  abrecks  was  not  being 
discussed ;  but  of  all  hearts,  the  saddest  and  most  anxious 
was  Sultanetta's. 

If  a  shout  was  heard  in  the  court,  if  a  step  echoed 
from  the  stairway,  her  blood  bounded  madly  through  her 
veins,  she  was  unable  to  breathe,  she  ran  to  the  window, 
she  inqvured  at  the  gate,  and,  deceived  for  the  twentieth 
time,  with  bowed  head  and  misty  eyes  she  would  resume 
her  work,  which  for  the  first  time  seemed  shockingly 
tedious.  All  her  questions,  without  her  tongue's  framing 
Ammalat's  name,  had  reference  to  Ammalat.  She  asked 
her  father  and  brothers  what  kind  of  wounds  the  tiger 
inflicted,  at  what  distance  he  could  be  seen,  how  long  it 
would  take  him  to  reach  the  village  from  the  place  where 
he  had  been  seen  ;  and  after  every  question  she  would 
droop  her  head  sadly  and  say  to  herself,  — 

"They  are  lost!" 

The  third  day  proved  that  they  had  not  felt  uneasiness 
without  cause. 


208  SULTANETTA. 

Abotit  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  pale  yonng  man, 
his  clothes  torn,  covered  with  clots  of  hlood,  and  ex- 
hausted by  hunger  and  fatigue,  arrived  at  the  outskirts 
of  the  village. 

It  was  Nephtali.  They  pressed  around  him  with 
curiosity,  and  eagerly  questioned  him. 

This  is  what  he  had  to  tell :  — 

"  On  the  same  day  that  we  left  Khxmsack,  we  dis- 
covered traces  of  the  beast;  but  it  was  late,  darkness  was 
coming  on;  we  might  lose  his  trail,  wander  away,  and 
expose  ourselves  to  him  without  defence.  We  would  re- 
serve the  attack  for  the  morrow. 

**  I  knew  of  a  cave  a  hundred  steps  away ;  we  entered 
that.  A  rock  blocked  up  the  entrance,  and  we  slept 
tranquilly  on  our  bourkas. 

"  The  next  morning  at  daybreak,  we  awoke ;  a  roar 
that  we  heard  in  the  mountain,  told  us  that  it  was  time 
to  bestir  ourselves. 

"  We  examined  the  priming  of  our  guns ;  we  cleaned 
the  barrels  with  our  ramrods,  assured  ourselves  that  our 
kandjiars  played  freely  in  their  sheaths,  and  set  off. 

"  The  farther  we  went  in  the  forest,  the  narrower  the 
path  became,  and  the  more  significant  were  the  traces  of 
the  tiger. 

"  Flecks  of  blood,  broken  bones,  and  shreds  of  flesh  said 
plainly,  *  This  is  the  tiger's  path.' 

"  On  the  way  we  found  intact  the  two  hands  of  a 
man :  they  were  undoubtedly  those  of  Ackmeth  Khan's 
noukar. 

"  It  is  known  that  man-eating  beasts  which  devour  the 
entire  body  dare  not  touch  the  hands, which  typify  man's 
rule  over  nature. 

"  We  advanced  cautiously,  step  by  step ;  evidently  we 
were  nearing  the  tiger's  lair. 


SULTANETTA.  209 

"  Suddenly  we  came  upon  a  glade  white  with  bones. 
In  the  midst  lay  the  tiger,  and,  having  feasted,  he  was  toss- 
ing a  head,  like  a  young  kitten  playing  with  a  wooden 
ball. 

"  An  ambitious  desire  took  possession  of  me  for  which  I 
deserve  blame :  it  was  to  kill  the  tiger  alone,  without 
concerning  myself  about  my  companion.  I  took  aim  at 
the  tiger  and  fired. 

"  Where  did  I  hit  him  1  I  cannot  tell.  But  through 
the  smoke,  before  it  could  clear,  I  saw  a  tawny  streak 
flash  through  the  air,  and  at  the  same  moment  I  felt  as 
if  Mount  Elburz  ^  were  descending  upon  my  head. 

"  I  saw  nothing  more,  heard  nothing  more,  unless  it 
were  a  cry  and  a  shot. 

"  I  had  fainted. 

"  How  long  I  was  unconscious  I  do  not  know.  When  I 
again  opened  my  eyes,  it  seemed,  from  the  freshness  in 
the  air  and  the  position  of  the  sun,  that  the  sun  had  been 
up  for  an  hour  or  two. 

"  All  around  was  quiet. 

"  I  still  had  my  gun  in  my  hand. 

"  Ammalat's  gun,  broken  into  two  pieces,  was  ten  paces 
to  the  right  of  the  spot  where  I  had  fallen. 

"  The  stones  were  covered  with  blood ;  but  whose 
blood  ?     Ammalat's,  or  the  tiger's  ? 

"  The  bushes  all  about  were  torn  up  by  their  roots. 

"  It  was  evident  that  a  terrible,  maddening,  deadly 
struggle  had  taken  place. 

"  And  yet  I  could  find  the  body  of  neither  man  nor 
animal. 

"  I  called  Ammalat  with  all  my  strength,  but  no  one 
answered, 

"  I  wished  to  follow  the  tiger's  trail,  to  find  Ammalat 

^  One  of  the  highest  three  of  the  mountains  of  the  Caucasus. 
14 


210  8ULTAHETTA. 

alive,  or  to  die  on  liis  body ;  but  I  was  so  weak  that  at 
the  end  of  a  hundred  steps  I  was  forced  to  sit  down. 

"  Suddenly  a  hope  sprang  up :  perhaps  he  had  killed  the 
tiger,  and,  believing  me  dead,  had  returned  to  Khunsack. 

"  I  mustered  all  my  strength  again  and  took  the  road 
back  to  the  village.     You  have  nut  seen  him  t 

"  Brothers,  I  come  like  a  crushed  serpent ;  my  head 
is  in  your  hands.  I  have  abandoned  my  kounack  in 
danger;  do  with  me  as  you  see  fit. 

"  Whatever  your  verdict,  I  will  not  complain.  If  you 
think  I  liave  deserved  death,  I  will  die  resignedly. 

"  If  you  leave  me  my  life,  I  will  live  blessing  you. 

**  Allah  is  my  witness  tliat  I  have  done  all  that  a  man 
could  do  —  ** 

A  murmur  rose  among  the  listeners. 

Some  excused  Nephtali ;  others  blamed  him ;  all  pitied 
him. 

The  popular  opinion  was  that  Nephtali  had  fled,  aban- 
doniug  Animalat;  that  he  liad  invented  the  whole  story 
that  he  had  just  related;  tliat,  in  short,  he  had  betrayed 
his  kounack. 

His  wounds  were  but  slight;  how  could  the  tiger's 
blow  have  produced  such  a  long,  deep  fainting-spell  f 

Then  other  suspicions  began  to  creep  out. 

Nephtali  had  been  almo^  raised  in  the  liouse  of  Khan 
Ackmeth,  who  was,  as  we  know,  his  father's  kounack. 

Ue  had  ceased  coming  to  the  village,  they  said,  be- 
cause he  was  in  love  with  the  beautiful  Sultanetta,  and 
was  not  of  high  enough  birth,  although  all  mountaineers 
are  equal,  to  wed  the  khan's  daughter. 

In  the  village  there  were  rumors  of  a  probable  union 
between  Ammalat  and  Sultanetta. 

Instigated  by  jealousy,  might  not  Nephtali  have  left 
Ammalat  to  die,  or  even  have  killed  him  1 


SULTANETTA.  211 

When  a  wicked  thought  enters  the  head,  it  is  like  bad 
seed  let  fall  on  good  ground;  it  sprouts  more  quickly 
and  more  vigorously  than  the  other,  takes  up  all  the 
room,  crowds  out  the  other,  and  at  last  is  alone. 

But  one  cry  rose  above  all  others,  one  conviction  pre- 
vailed over  all  the  rest. 

"  Take  him  to  Ackmeth  Khan ;  Ackmeth  Khan  shall 
decide." 

And  with  a  great  uproar  the  crowd  directed  itself 
towards  the  castle. 

Sultanetta  heard  the  clamor,  she  ran  to  the  window, 
she  saw  the  crowd:  amid  the  crowd  she  searched  for 
Ammalat  Beg. 

Then  she  recognized  Nephtali,  —  Nephtali  alone ! 

She  too,  poor  child,  who  had  never  thought  ill  of  her 
neighbor,  was  inspired  by  a  wicked  thought. 

She  ran  to  the  flight  of  steps  just  as  her  father  also 
arrived  and  Nephtali,  conducted  by  the  people,  was 
entering  the  court. 

He  bowed  before  the  khan. 

"  Speak, "  said  Ackmeth. 

Nephtali  told  the  same  story  without  altering  a  word 
of  it. 

Sultanetta  listened,  rigid,  cold,  motionless,  silent  as  a 
statue. 

"  Coward !  "  Ackmeth  Khan  contented  himself  with 
saying.  "  By  good  luck,  you  are  not  an  Avare,  but  a 
Tchetchen." 

"By  the  bones  of  my  father,  whose  death  you  an- 
nounced, I  have  told  the  truth,"  answered  Nephtali; 
"  now  dispose  of  me  as  you  will. " 

"  You  took  your  oath, "  said  Ackmeth  Khan,  "  to  re- 
turn with  your  comrade  or  with  the  tiger's  skin.  You 
vowed  to  die,  if  you  failed  to  keep  your  oath.  You  have 
not  kept  it,  you  must  die." 


212  8ULTANETTA. 

"  Wlient  **  asked  Nephtali. 

"  I  give  you  three  days,  during  wliich  a  search  shall  be 
made.  If  in  tliose  three  days  Ammalat  is  not  found,  or 
some  proof  of  your  innocence  is  not  forthcoming,  you 
shall  die.  —  Hear,  all  of  you, "  said  Ackmeth  Khan  to 
the  crowd,  "  I  grant  him  three  days.  During  those  three 
days  let  no  one  rail  at  him,  let  no  one  insult  him,  let  no 
one  touch  a  single  hair  of  his  head ;  but  if  he  tries  to  es- 
cape, you  may  shoot  him  as  you  would  a  dog.  —  Son  of 
Mohammed  Ali,  I  have  judged  you  as  your  father  would 
have  judged  you. " 

And  to  his  noukars, — 

"  Take  him  away, "  he  added ;  "  you  shall  answer  for 
him  with  your  heads." 

Then,  bringing  his  papak  down  over  his  eyes,  he  said 
to  Sultanetta, — 

"  Gome,  let  us  go  in.  If  we  do  not  discover  Ammalat 
alive,  he  shall  at  least  be  avenged. " 

Nephtali  was  conducted  to  the  prison  within  the 
fortress. 

That  same  day,  thirty  mountaineers  set  out  armed  as 
for  battle ;  they  were  going  in  search  of  Ammalat  Beg. 

It  was  a  point  of  honor  with  Ackmeth  Khan,  if  he  did 
not  find  Ammalat  alive,  to  secure  at  least  his  bones  and 
give  them  burial. 

Often  do  the  Avares  nish  into  the  hottest  of  the  affray 
to  rescue  from  the  Russian's  hands  their  slain  friend  or 
chief,  and  then  fall  upon  his  corpse,  preferring  to  die 
with  him  rather  than  to  abandon  him. 

Sultanetta  had  quitted  her  father's  arm,  and  returned 
to  her  own  room.  In  appearance  she  seemed  calm ;  she 
did  not  complain,  she  did  not  weep. 

Yet  her  mother  spoke  to  her  and  she  did  not  answer. 
The  sparks  from  her  father's  chibouk  burnt  holes  in  her 


SULTANETTA.  213 

dress,  but  she  gave  no  heed.     The  wind  blew  down  from 
the  mountain,  and  to  it  she  exposed  her  bared  head. 

The  most  antagonistic  sentiments  were  struggling  in 
her  heart  and  breaking  it.  But  the  heart  was  far  from 
the  eyes  :  not  a  muscle  in  her  face  betrayed  its  suffering. 

The  pride  of  the  daughter  of  the  khan  was  struggling 
with  Sultanetta's  love,  and  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  tell  whether  pride  or  love  would  yield. 

Thus  she  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

At  night,  left  alone,  she  was  able  to  weep  at  her  ease. 

She  opened  the  window,  leaned  her  elbow  upon  it,  and 
kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  mountain. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  if  at  every  instant  she  should  hear 
some  sound  announcing  Ammalat's  return,  —  her  own 
name  issuing  from  the  night  in  his  dear  voice,  a  song  of 
joy  or  a  cry  of  pain. 

She  heard  only  the  plaintive  wailing  of  jackals,  those 
slaves  of  the  tiger  and  lion,  whom  these  sultans  of  moun- 
tain and  desert  use  for  toling  their  prey,  and  the  distant, 
ceaseless  roar  of  the  cascade  which  falls  from  the  summit 
of  Gaudour  d'Ach, 

This  sound  recalled  a  walk  that  she  had  often  taken 
with  Ammalat  Beg, 

It  led  to  the  ruins  of  a  Christian  monastery  —  the 
Avares  became  Mohammedans  less  than  two  centuries 
ago  —  situated  two  versts  to  the  west  of  Khunsack. 
The  hand  of  time  had  respected  the  church,  and  man, 
strange  to  say,  had  wrought  no  greater  destruction  than 
time.  It  had  remained  intact,  surrounded  by  the  debris 
of  other  structures ;  but  the  ivy  had  crept  in  at  the  broken 
windows  and  spread  its  mantle  of  sober  green  over  the 
interior ;  the  trees  had  pushed  through  crevices  between 
the  stones,  making  the  gaps  wider  and  wider;  a  moss  as 
fine  as  the  finest  carpet  spread  itself  over  the  flags,  its 


214  SULTANETTA. 

freshness  being  maintained  by  a  spring  which  had  made 
an  opening  tlirough  the  wall,  and  which  ran  clear  as 
liquid  crystal  down  the  whole  length  of  the  chapel,  mak- 
ing it  a  delicious- retreat  on  hot  summer  days. 

Often  had  Sultanetta  come  with  Ammalat,  together 
writh  Sakina,  her  attendant,  to  sit  under  the  cool  doiue 
and  dream  to  the  murmur  of  the  brooklet;  then,  some- 
times, a  mountain  goat,  coming  to  slake  his  thirst,  fright- 
ened at  the  sight  of  the  two  young  people,  would  bound 
away  in  flight. 

"  To-morrow, "  said  she,  "  I  will  go  without  you  to 
the  chapel,  where  so  often  I  have  gone  with  you,  dear 
Ammalat  Beg.** 

And,  tired  of  the  jackals'  wailing,  which  seemed  to 
her  a  bad  omen,  the  young  girl  closed  the  window  again 
and  cast  herself  upon  her  bed. 

In  the  morning  she  called  Sakina,  and  said,  — 

**  We  will  take  a  walk  along  the  banks  of  the  Urens." 

On  the  way,  Sultanetta  thought  with  sweet  sadness  of 
that  charming  spot,  so  lovely,  so  fresh,  so  peaceful. 

It  seemed  to  her,  on  reaching  the  convent,  that  it 
would  be  a  profanation  not  to  enter  alone  with  her 
remembrances. 

She  sent  Sakina  to  gather  some  wild  mull)orrio.s,  t<;ll- 
iiig  her  to  return  and  look  for  her  near  the  stream;  then 
she  crossed  the  mossy  threshold  of  the  chai)el. 

The  dim  light  of  the  church,  the  twittering  of  the 
swallows  which  hail  nested  there  in  the  spring,  the  mur- 
muring stream,  all  combined  to  dissolve  in  tears  the 
grief  that  oppressed  her  heart. 

She  sat  down  at  the  water's  brink,  and  as  through  a 
mist  watched  her  tears  falling  into  the  water. 

Suddenly  she  heard  tlio  sound  of  a  step  too  firm  to  be 
Sakina's.     She  lifted  her  liead  and  shrieked  with  terror. 


SULTANETTA.  215 

Before  her  stood  a  man  covered  with  dirt  and  blood. 
A  tiger's  skin,  the  head  of  which  enframed  his  face,  fell 
from  his  shoulders  to  the  ground. 

Sultanetta's  first  cry  had  been  a  shriek  of  terror;  the 
second  was  a  cry  of  joy. 

Through  all  the  dust,  mire,  and  blood  by  which  he  was 
stained,  beneath  the  tiger's  skin  she  recognized  Ammalat 
Beg. 

Then,  forgetting  everything  else  in  the  world,  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  bound,  filled  with  joy  and 
love,  she  cast  herself  into  his  arms. 

A  cry  escaped  Ammalat  also ;  his  mouth,  like  a  bee, 
lit  upon  the  rosy  lips  of  the  young  girl.  They  had  no 
need  of  words. 

This  time,  quite  beside  himself,  the  young  man 
exclaimed, — 

"  And  you  love  me  then,  Sultanetta  ?  " 

Abashed  at  her  own  boldness,  blushing  red  under  her 
lover's  kiss,  the  girl  withdrew  her  lips  from  Ammalat's, 
and  gently  repelled  him. 

Overcome  with  terror,  and  ready  to  let  her  slip  from 
his  arms,  Ammalat  Beg  demanded, — 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  me  ?  " 

"  Allah  save  me !  "  said  the  innocent  girl,  drooping  the 
eyelids,  but  not  the  eyes.  **  Love !  what  terrible  word 
have  you  spoken  ?  " 

"It  is  the  sweetest  word  in  all  the  universe,  Sulta- 
netta !  The  sun  is  love !  the  Spring  is  love  !  the  flowers 
are  love ! " 

"  Ammalat, "  said  the  young  girl,  "  a  year  ago,  a  woman 
uttering  frightful  shrieks  rushed  out  from  her  house 
without  a  veil,  and,  all  bleeding,  fell  in  the  dust  at  my 
feet.  A  man  was  pursuing  her  with  a  poniard  in  his 
hand.     I  fled  to  the  castle;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 


216  SULTANETTA. 

the  woman  was  following  me.  For  a  long  time  after,  I 
would  waken  at  night  thinking  that  I  heard  her  shrieks, 
and  in  the  darkness  I  could  see  her  again  all  bleeding 
and  grovelling  on  the  earth.  When  I  asked  why  this 
unhappy  woman  had  been  killed,  and  what  had  been  her 
crime  that  her  murderer  was  not  punished,  they  answered, 
•She  loved  a  young  man.' " 

"  Oh !  it  was  not  because  she  loved  him  that  she  was 
killed,  dear  child." 

"Why  was  it,  thent" 

"  It  was  because  she  had  betrayed  the  one  she  loved." 

"Betrayed!  what  does  that  meant  I  do  not  under* 
stand,  Ammalat." 

"  Please  God  you  may  never  understand  I  * 

Then,  mustering  his  heart's  whole  tenderness  into  hia 
voice,  — 

"  You  love  me,  do  you  not,  Sultanetta  t " 

**  I  think  so, "  said  the  young  girl. 

**  Well,  do  you  think  that  you  would  ever  feel  fot 
another  what  you  feel  for  me  t  " 

"Never I  "  cried  Sultanetta,  quickly. 

"  That,  you  see,  would  be  betraying  me  —  " 

Sultanetta  turned  upon  Ammalat  the  eyes  of  an  Ori- 
ental woman,  to  which  the  poets  find  only  the  eye  of  the 
gazelle  to  compare. 

"  Oh  I  "  exclaimed  she,  "  if  you  but  knew,  Ammalat, 
what  I  have  suffered  during  the  four  days  in  which  I 
have  not  seen  you !  I  did  not  know  what  absence  meant. 
When  my  brothers  or  my  fatlier  go  away,  I  weep  at 
saying  good-bye.  True,  I  said  good-bye  to  you  without 
weeping;  but  I  have  wept  enough  since,  I  am  sure  I 
Listen,  Ammalat,"  continued  the  girl;  "I  have  discov- 
ered  one  thing  that  I  will  tell  you:  I  could  not  live 
without  you.** 


SULTANETTA.  217 

"  And  I, "  said  the  young  man,  "  not  only  cannot  live 
without  you,  but  I  am  ready  to  die  for  you,  my  darling, 
to  sacrifice  not  only  my  life  but  my  soul  for  you. " 

Tliere  was  a  sound  of  footsteps :  Sakina  was  returning 
witli  her  hands  tilled  with  wild  mulberries. 

She  uttered  a  cry  of  fright  at  seeing  the  young  man ; 
but  on  recognizing  him  she  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  prince,  then  you  are  not  dead  ?  " 

These  Avords  reminded  Sultanetta  that  she  was  not  the 
only  one  anxious  about  Ammalat,  but  that  her  father  was 
impatiently  awaiting  news,  and  that  there  was  a  poor 
prisoner  whose  life  depended  on  Ammalat's  return. 

On  the  way,  the  young  beg  gave  Sultanetta  an  account 
of  what  had  happened  between  himself  and  the  tiger. 

Of  the  first  part  of  the  adventure,  Nephtali  had  told 
the  exact  truth. 

This  is  what  followed :  — ■ 

Just  as  Nephtali  had  fallen  under  the  tiger,  Ammalat 
Beg  fired  a  shot. 

The  ball  from  Ammalat's  gun  broke  the  creature's 
lower  jaw. 

At  the  same  instant  the  tiger  abandoned  Nephtali  and 
sprang  upon  Ammalat,  who  awaited  him,  pistol  in  hand, 
and  then,  dodging  lightly  to  one  side,  fired  close  to  his 
muzzle. 

The  bullet  penetrated  eye  and  brain. 

Overpowered  with  pain,  the  animal  began  to  leap  in 
the  air  and  roll  on  the  earth.  He  acted  as  if  blind  and 
mad. 

Ammalat  threw  down  his  pistol,  took  his  gun  by  the 
barrel,  approached  the  tiger,  and  dealt  him  a  terrible 
blow  on  the  head. 

The  gun  flew  into  fragments. 

The  animal  seemed  to  acknowledge  himself  to  be  van- 


218  8ULTANETTA. 

quished,  and  tried  to  run.  One  of  his  fore  paws  had 
been  shattered  by  Nephtali,  one  jaw  was  hanging,  and  an 
eye  was  missing  from  its  socket. 

But,  mutilated  as  he  was,  he  made  swifter  progress 
tlian  Aramalat  Beg. 

Ammalat  Beg  set  out  to  follow  him,  while  reloading  his 
pistol.  From  time  to  time  he  found  places  where  the 
animal  had  stopped  and  struggled  in  torment.  In  such 
places  the  blood-saturated  earth  was  pawed,  the  grass 
was  plucked  up,  the  bushes  were  in  splinters. 

From  time  to  time  he  caught  sight  of  the  animal  drag- 
ging himself  along  with  difficulty,  crawling  rather  than 
walking.  Then  he  would  hasten  his  own  pace ;  but,  as 
soon  as  the  tiger  felt  himself  to  be  pursued,  he  increased 
his  ovra  efforts  and  gained  on  the  hunter. 

This  sort  of  chase  lasted  all  day  without  rest  or 
relaxation. 

Night  fell;  Ammalat  Beg  was  forced  to  stay  during 
the  night,  or  he  miglit  have  lost  tlie  animal's  trail. 

He  had  abandoned  his  bourka,  his  papak  and  tchouka, 
every  tiling  that  could  impede  his  course :  for  clothing,  he 
had  nothing  left  but  his  bechmet  and  trousers ;  for  arms, 
only  his  kandjiar  and  pistol. 

In  the  morning  he  awoke  chilled  and  famished. 

As  soon  as  the  light  would  admit,  he  again  took  up 
the  tiger's  trail. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  foimd  him. 
But,  this  time,  despairing  of  escape  by  flight,  the  tiger  not 
only  awaited  him,  but  he  even  came  creeping  towards  him. 

The  ferocious  brute  could  no  longer  stand,  he  could 
not  raise  himself;  his  strength  was  exhausted  from  loss 
of  blood. 

Ammalat  Beg  met  him  half-way.  He  halted  at  ten 
paces  from  hinU 


StJlTANETTA.  219 

One  of  the  tiger's  eyes  was  put  out,  but  the  other 
glowed  like  a  live  coal.  Ammalat  Beg,  whose  pistol 
never  missed  a  rouble  in  air,  placed  a  bullet  in  the 
other  eye  as  deftly  as  with  his  hand. 

The  animal  leaped  into  the  air,  fell  over  on  his  back, 
stretched  out  his  three  frightful  paws  in  his  last  agony, 
—  the  fourth  being  broken,  —  stiffened,  yielded  up  his 
breath  in  one  roar,  and  was  dead. 

Ammalat  Beg  flung  himself  upon  him ;  it  was  the  fam- 
ished man,  this  time,  who  seemed  ready  to  devour  the 
tiger.  f 

With  his  poniard  he  Opened  an  artery  in  the  neck,  and 
sucked  the  blood  that  flowed  from  it. 

He  then  laid  open  the  breast  and  ate  a  piece  of  the 
heart  yet  warm.  —  The  Arabs  of  Algeria  on  killing  a 
lion  make  their  sons  eat  the  still  bleeding  heart  to  render 
them  brave ;  the  Greeks  in  like  manner  eat  the  hearts  of 
eagles.  —  He  next  skinned  the  animal  with  his  kandjiar, 
and  threw  the  hide  over  his  shoulders. 

Not  until  then  did  he  look  about  him ;  it  was  a  drizzly 
morning,  a  dense  fog  began  to  spread  over  the  moun- 
tain; he  was  unable  to  distinguish  objects  ten  paces 
away. 

He  crouched  down  upon  a  rock  and  waited. 

The  day  went  by,  and  night  came  on;  he  heard  the 
whirring  of  the  eagles  as  they  regained  their  eyries  amid 
the  clouds. 

He  built  a  fire  with  powder  and  dry  leaves,  by  the  aid 
of  his  pistol. 

A  bit  of  the  tiger's  heart  broiled  over  the  coals  fur- 
nished his  supper. 

Then,  spreading  the  animal's  skin  with  the  fur  upper- 
most, he  rolled  up  in  it  and  went  to  sleep. 

He  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  the  first  rays  of 


220  SULTANETTA. 

the  son ;  knowing  that  Khunsack  lay  to  the  east,  he  pro* 
ceeded  eastward. 

Arriving  at  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  he  heheld 
Khunsack  bleaching  on  the  rocks. 

He  was  thirsty:  the  tiger  had  no  more  blood  with 
which  to  quench  his  thirst.  Ammalat  Beg  recalled  the 
pure  rill  wliich  ran  through  the  chapel. 

He  descended  by  the  shortest  route,  over  rocks  and 
clifEs,  holding  on  by  tufts  of  grass,  the  roots  of  trees,  or 
jutting  stones. 

He  at  length  reached  the  valley. 

He  ran  to  the  chapel  with  the  speed  of  a  thirsting 
deer. 

But  on  entering,  he  saw  a  woman,  heard  a  cry,  recog- 
nized  Sultanetta. 

He  forgot  everything,— hunger,  thirst,  fatigue;  every- 
thing but  his  love. 

"  Glory  to  God,  and  thanks!  " 

As  Ammalat  Beg  pronounced  these,  the  last  words  of 
his  story,  he,  together  with  the  young  maiden  and  her 
attendant,  reached  the  outskirts  of  Khunsack. 

The  shout  sent  up  by  those  who  perceived  them  ran 
tlie  whole  length  of  the  hamlet  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
train  of  gunpowder. 

Every  dweller  in  Khunsack  rushed  out  of  his  house, 
forming  a  procession  after  the  two  young  people. 

The  cry  of  "Ammalat  Beg!  Ammalat  Beg!"  startled 
Ackmeth  Khan  in  the  deptlis  of  his  harem. 

He  reached  the  head  of  the  flight  of  steps  in  front  of 
the  castle  just  as  the  two  young  people  had  attained  its 
foot. 

In  spite  of  the  efforts  that  he  made  to  remain  grave 
and  sedate,  as  every  good  Mussulman  should  in  the  face 
of  grief  or  joy,  he  held  out  his  arms  to  Ammalat  Beg. 


SULTAN  ETTA.  221 

As  if  there  were  somotliing  for  which  she  ought  to  he 
pardoned,  Sultanetta  sprang  forward  simultaneously  with 
her  lover  to  her  father's  hreast,  and  he  enveloped  them 
both  in  the  same  embrace,  welcomed  them  both  with  the 
same  kiss. 

"Dear  father,"  said  Sultanetta,  "we  have  been  unjust 
to  Nephtali ;  everything  happened  as  he  said. " 

The  khan  gave  an  order  for  the  prisoner  to  be 
released. 

Then  he  had  an  ox  and  six  sheep  killed,  in  order  that 
Ammalat's  return  might  be  an  occasion  of  feasting 
throughout  the  entire  village. 

But  when  Ammalat  had  told  Ackmeth  Khan  what  he 
had  already  told  Sultanetta,  he  sent  for  Nephtali. 

"  Nephtali,"  said  he,  "  all  justice  is  done  you.  If  you 
will  enter  my  household,  you  shall  be  made  chief  of  my 
noukars. " 

"  I  thank  you,  Ackmeth  Khan, "  was  the  young  man's 
reply;  "I  am  a  Tchetchen,  and  not  an  Avare.  I  came 
to  kill  the  tiger  that  was  preying  on  your  sheep;  the 
tiger  is  dead,  I  have  no  more  to  do  here.  Farewell, 
Ackmeth  Khan," 

He  approached  Ammalat  Beg,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Farewell,  kounack;  for  life,  for  death!  "  said  he. 

Then,  passing  Sultanetta,  he  bowed  low  and  said,  — 

"  Shine  forever,  0  morning  star  !  " 

And  he  departed  with  the  gait  of  a  king  leaving  the 
throne-room. 

Ackmeth  Khan  waited  until  the  door  was  again 
closed. 

"  And  now,  Ammalat  Beg, "  said  he,  "  be  doubly 
welcome.  After  the  tiger-hunt,  that  of  the  lion.  To- 
morrow we  march  against  the  Russians." 

"  Allah  !  "   exclaimed  Sultanetta  sadly  ;   "  more  expe- 


222  SULTAN  ETTA. 

ditionsl  more  deaths!     When  will  blood  cease  to  flow 
on  the  momitain  t  " 

"  When  the  mountain  streams  shall  descend  into  the 
valley  as  milk,  when  sugar-cane  shall  grow  at  the  sum- 
mit of  Elburz,"  rejoined  Ackmeth  Khan  with  a  smile. 


SULTANEITA.  223 


VI. 


How  grand  is  the  Terek  as  it  thunders  through  the 
Pass  of  Dariel !  There,  like  a  genie  deriving  his  power 
from  Heaven,  he  struggles  with  nature.  In  some  places 
he  flashes  between  rocky  precipices  glittering  like  a  drawn 
sword  which  is  piercing  the  granite  wall ;  in  others,  dull 
and  foaming,  he  struggles  with  enormous  boulders  along 
his  course,  overturning  them  as  he  goes  and  carrying 
them  with  him.  On  dark  nights,  when  the  belated  horse- 
man passes  along  the  steep  bank  which  controls  it,  he 
draws  his  bourka  close  about  him.  Not  all  the  horrors 
to  be  conjured  up  by  the  most  fantastic  imagination  can 
compare  with  the  reality  by  which  he  is  surrounded. 
The  flood,  swollen  by  the  rains,  rolls  underneath  his  feet 
with  a  booming  sound,  and  plunges  from  ledges  of  rock 
above  his  head,  threatening  each  moment  to  crush  him. 
A  sudden  flash  rends  the  obscurity,  and  the  terrified 
traveller  sees  only  the  gloomy  cloud  above  him,  and 
below  him  a  hideous  chasm.  Everywhere  are  precipi- 
tous walls,  before,  behind,  beside  him;  and,  leaping 
from  ledge  to  ledge,  the  maddened  Terek  is  dashed  into 
lustrous  foam.  For  the  moment,  its  swift  waters,  as 
troubled  as  the  spirits  of  hell,  writhe  at  the  foot  of  a 
precipice  with  terrible  din,  and  seem  in  the  abyss  like  a 
throng  of  spectres  driven  by  an  archangel's  sword.  Great 
boulders  follow  the  current  of  the  stream  with  ominous 
crashing,  and  then  it  is  that,  blinded  anew  by  a  flying 
serpent  of  fire,  he  suddenly  finds  himself  plunged  into  a 


22i  8ULTANETTA. 

8ea,of  darkness ;  then,  in  turn,  the  thunder  rumbles,  the 
rocks  vibrate  witli  a  sound  as  of  a  cascade  of  moiintains 
rolling  over  and  over  each  other.  Earth's  echo  is  an- 
swering  heaven's  artillery,  and  again  the  flash,  and  again 
night,  then  the  thunderbolt,  then  once  again  the  sound 
of  tumbling  mountains.  And,  as  if  the  whole  chain  of 
the  Caucasus,  from  Taman  to  Apsheron,  were  shaking 
its  granite  shoulders,  a  shower  of  rattling  stones  comes 
hurtling  down,  striking  witli  a  rebound.  Your  horse 
stops  dismayed,  backs  away,  falls  on  his  haunches,  rears. 
His  mane,  whipped  by  the  wind,  lashes  your  face ;  a 
spirit  moans  in  the  air,  as  doleful  as  a  lost  soul.  A 
shiver  passes  through  you,  and  perspiration  stands  in 
beads  on  your  face ;  your  heart  shrinks,  and  in  spite  of 
you  there  rises  to  your  lips  the  prayer  that  your  mother 
taught  you  when  you  were  a  child. 

And  yet,  what  charm,  what  softness  the  rosy-browed, 
fair-footed  Morning  brings  to  the  gorge  where  the  Terek 
roars!  The  clouds,  chased  by  the  wind,  rise  from  the 
earth  and  hover  about  the  icy  peaks;  above  them  a 
glow  of  light  throws  up  the  silhouette  of  the  eastern 
mountains;  the  rocks  glisten,  silvered  over  with  rain- 
drops ;  and  the  Terek,  still  dark,  still  raging,  still  foam- 
ing, bounds  over  the  stones  as  if  seeking  a  broad  bed  in 
which  to  rest. 

However,  one  thing  is  wanting  in  the  Caucasus, —  rivers 
and  lakes  in  which  these  giants  of  creation  can  mirror 
tliemselves.  The  Terek,  writhing  in  the  depths  of 
gorges,  looks  like  a  stream,  a  torrent  at  the  most;  but, 
below  VTadikafkas,  upon  entering  the  valley,  it  spreads 
the  stones  brought  with  it  from  the  mountains  and  flows 
broadly  and  at  will,  still  swift  but  less  boisterous,  as  if 
resting  and  regaining  breath,  exhausted  after  its  painful 
toil.     At   last,    having  cleared   the   head  of   the  Little 


SULTANETTA.  225 

Kabardah,  it  turns  eastward,  like  a  pious  Mussulman, 
and,  overflowing  both  banks,  always  at  war  with  each 
other,  it  hastens  across  the  steppes  past  Kisliar  to  cast 
itself  into  the  Caspian  Sea. 

But,  before  reaching  its  long  resting-place,  it  has 
already  paid  its  tribute,  and,  like  a  rugged  workman, 
has  turned  the  great  wheels  of  the  mills.  Along  its 
right  bank  between  the  woods  and  the  mountains,  are 
scattered  the  Aoubs  and  Kabardians,  whom  we  confound 
by  giving  them  the  general  name  of  Circassians,  with 
the  Tchetchens  below  them  and  nearer  the  sea.  These 
Aoubs  are  conquered,  but  only  on  the  outside ;  in  reality 
they  are  bands  of  outlaws,  who  derive  profit  from  both 
their  friendliness  with  the  Russians  and  their  proceeds 
from  mountain  brigandage;  having  free  access  to  all 
places,  they  forewarn  their  countrymen  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  soldiers,  of  the  numbers  of  their  garrisons, 
of  the  state  of  their  fortresses ;  they  conceal  them  in  their 
dwellings  when  on  an  expedition,  share  with  them,  or 
buy,  the  booty  when  they  return,  furnish  them  salt  and 
Russian  powder,  and  often  assist  in  person  on  their 
expeditions.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  hostile  mountain- 
eers, wearing  the  same  costume  as  those  who  have  sub- 
mitted, pass  the  Terek  without  hindrance,  approach 
travellers  without  being  recognized,  attack  them  if  they 
are  the  stronger,  and  if  the  weaker,  pass  them  with  a 
bow,  the  hand  on  the  heart. 

It  is  the  way  of  the  vanquished. 

And,  as  regards  these  last,  we  must  say,  their  position 
opposite  to  their  terrible  neighbors  drives  them  almost  in-' 
voluntarily  into  this  duplicity.  Knowing  that,  hindered 
by  the  obstacle  which  the  river  presents  to  them,  the  Rus- 
sians would  not  have  time  to  come  to  their  defence  against 
the  mountaineers,  they  are  forced  to  take  their  compa- 

15 


226  fiULTAKETTA. 

triote  by  the  hand ;  but  at  the  same  time  they  pretend  tO 
be  friendly  with  the  Russians,  before  whom  they  quaiL 
Every  one  of  them  in  the  morning  is  ready  to  become 
the  kounack  of  a  Bussiau,  and,  in  the  evening,  the  guide 
of  a  mountaineer. 

As  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Terek,  it  is  covered  with 
rich  stanitzas  belonging  to  the  Cossacks  on  the  border. 
Between  tliese  stanitzas  lie  rude  villages.  The  Cossacks, 
moreover,  differ  in  no  way  from  the  mountaineers  except 
in  their  unshaven  heads;  but,  aside  from  that,  their 
weapons,  clothes,  and  ways  are  the  same.  It  is  a  fine 
thing  to  watch  them  in  a  bout  with  mountaineers.  It  ia 
not,  properly  speaking,  a  fight,  but  a  tournament  in 
which  each  strives  to  show  off  superiority  of  strength  and 
courage.  Two  Cossacks  will  charge  bravely  on  four 
horsemen,  and,  with  equal  numbers,  they  will  always 
come  off  conquerors.  All  speak  Tartar,  all  know  the 
mountaineers.  Sometimes  they  are  relatives,  even,  by 
reason  of  the  women  whom  they  have  kidnapped;  but 
in  the  field  they  are  mortal  enemies.  Although  the  Cos* 
sacks  are  strictly  forbidden  to  cross  the  Terek,  yet  the 
bravest  of  them  swim  across,  sometimes  on  pleasure, 
sometimes  on  business.  For  their  part,  when  niglit 
comes,  the  mountaineers  do  the  same;  they  crouch  in 
the  grass,  creep  through  the  bushes,  and  suddenly  stand 
up  in  the  traveller's  path,  taking  him  prisoner  and  set- 
ting a  ransom  on  his  head  if  he  makes  no  resistance,  but 
killing  him  if  he  does. 

It  even  happens  that  the  most  enterprising  spend  two 
or  three  days  in  the  vineyanls  near  the  village  awaiting 
an  opportunity  to  do  a  stroke  of  business.  That  is  why 
the  border  Cossack  never  leaves  his  house  unarmed,  never 
takes  a  step  without  his  trusty  poniard,  nor  goes  into  the 
field  without  his  gun.     He  ploughs,  sows,  cultivates,  and 


SULTANETTA.  227 

mows  his  piece  of  ground,  always  armed.  That  is  why 
the  mountaineers  avoid  the  stauitzas  and  usually  prey 
upon  the  rude  villages,  or  boldly  strike  into  the  interior 
of  the  provinces. 

In  this  case  a  fight  is  inevitable,  and  the  most  daring 
horsemen  eagerly  engage  in  it  for  the  sake  of  fame,  which 
they  value  above  everything,  even  above  booty. 

During  the  autumn  of  1819,  when  the  events  we  are 
relating  occurred,  Kabardians  and  Tchetchens,  taking 
advantage  of  the  absence  of  General  Scrinokof,  had  mus- 
tered fifteen  hundred  men  to  plunder  certain  villages 
lying  on  the  other  side  of  the  Terek,  to  take  prisoners 
and  carry  off  flocks. 

Their  chief  was  the  Kabardian  prince,  Djemboulat. 

Ammalat  Beg,  coming  to  him  with  a  letter  from  Ack- 
meth  Khan,  had  been  very  well  received,  and  he  would 
have  been  made  chief  of  a  division,  had  there  been  any 
such  position  or  any  regular  troops  among  these  bands. 
His  horse  and  his  individual  courage  assign  to  each  man 
his  place  in  the  combat.  At  first,  there  is  some  ques- 
tion as  to  how  to  begin  the  affair,  and  how  to  engage 
the  enemy ;  but  eventually  there  is  neither  command  nor 
obedience,  and  the  fight  is  conducted  at  random  to 
the  end. 

After  warning  the  neighboring  princes  who  were  to 
take  part  in  the  expedition  witli  him,  Djemboulat  ap- 
pointed a  place  of  meeting,  and,  at  a  given  signal,  was 
heard  through  all  the  hamlets  the  cry,  "  Guaray !  gua- 
ray  !  "  that  is,  "  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  "  and  in  a  few  hours 
Kabardian  and  Tchetchen  riders  were  coming  from  all 
directions. 

Fearing  treachery,  no  one  except  the  chief  knew  where 
the  night  would  be  spent,  or  where  the  river  would  be 
crossed.     Dividing  themselves    into    small    bands,    the 


228  8ULTANETTA. 

mountaineers  gained  the  subjugated  hamlets  and  waited 
there  for  night.  The  vanquished  received  their  com- 
patriots witli  every  kind  of  joyful  demonstration;  but 
the  distrustful  Djemlxjulat  was  not  carried  away  by  this 
apparent  loyalty.  He  placed  sentinels  on  all  sides,  pro- 
claiming to  the  inhabitants  that  whoever  imder  any  pre- 
text tried  to  cross  over  the  border  would  be  run  through 
without  mercy.  Most  of  the  horsemen  lodged  in  the 
houses  of  their  relatives  and  friends;  but  Djcmboulat 
and  Ammalat  Beg  camped  in  the  field,  lying  before  the 
fire,  as  long  as  was  necessary  to  rest  their  horses. 

Djemboulat's  mind  was  occupied  with  the  Bussians 
and  the  fight  in  which  he  was  about  to  engage ;  but  Am- 
malat Beg  was  far  from  the  battle-field;  his  thoughts 
took  eagle's  wings,  and  flew  beyond  the  mountains  of 
Avarie ;  and  his  heart,  forced  to  remain  far  from  the  one 
it  loved,  was  full  of  sorrow.  The  sound  of  the  mountain 
balalaika,  accompanied  by  a  monotonous  chant,  diverted 
his  sadness ;  he  listened  in  spite  of  himself. 

A  Kabardian  was  singing  this  old  song,  — 

**  Toward  snowy  Easbek's  towering  peak, 
Far  from  the  wheat,  far  from  the  rye, 
As  eagle  birds  their  eyries  seek. 
The  stormy  clouds  go  wheeling  by. 

"Who  are  these  speeding  cavaliers 
Through  fog  and  mist  and  white  with  frost  t 
Ah  !  Allah,  save  I  — our  mountaineers, 
Our  heroes  flee,  the  battle 's  lost. 

"  The  Russian  hordes  are  at  their  heels. 
Mount  higher,  braven,  and  fo-^tur,  braves, 
The  craggy  steeps  1     The  laggunl  feels 
Death's  cohorts  press  with  naked  glaives. 


SULTANETTA.  229 

"  High  up,  and  higher,  Kasbek  grows 
A  wooded  slope  whose  le<afage  clads 
A  refuge  from  the  foeman's  blows. 
Ha!  higher!  faster!  courage,  lads  1 

*•  False  fate  yields  valor  to  the  foe  : 
Their  chargers  pant,  they  toil  in  vain, 
And  naught  can  save,  —  oh,  woe !  oh,  woe  ! 
That  mount  should  vanquished  be  by  plain. 

"  But,  hark  I  a  pious  mullah's  prayer 
From  bended  knees,  —  Death,  listening,  hearty  — 
Goes  speeding  through  the  lambent  air, 
And  reaches  Allah's  heeding  ears. 

"  To  save  his  faithful,  Allah  bids 
The  wood  obey  Mahomet's  call ; 
That  fortress  sure  all  danger  rids. 
To  prophet  praise !     God 's  over  all !  ** 

"  Yes,  in  other  times  it  was  so, "  said  Djemboulat,  with 
a  smile.  "  Our  fathers  believed  in  prayer,  and  God  heard 
them ;  but  now,  my  friend,  the  finest  refuge  is  courage, 
the  surest  prayer,  a  schaska.  Take  heed,  Ammalat, "  he 
continued,  caressing  his  mustache.  "  I  do  not  hide  from 
you  the  fact  that  it  will  be  a  warm  encounter.  The  colo- 
nel has  mustered  his  command.  But  where  is  he? 
How  many  men  has  he  ?  That  is  something  that  I  do 
not  know,  something  that  none  of  us  know." 

"  So  much  the  better !  "  said  Ammalat,  composedly ; 
"  the  more  Russians  the  better  the  mark." 

"  Yes,  but  the  more  difficulty  there  will  be  in  getting 
away  with  the  booty." 

"  Little  the  booty  matters  to  me.  I  wish  vengeance 
and  seek  glory." 

"  Glory  is  well  when  it  lays  golden  eggs,  Ammalai* 


230  8ULTANETTA- 

It  is  a  disgrace  to  show  empty  hands  to  one's  wife. 
Winter  is  approaching ;  in  order  to  regale  one's  friends, 
one  must  lay  in  his  provisions  at  the  expense  of  the 
Russians.  Choose  your  position  hcforehand,  Ammalat: 
march  in  the  vanguard,  or  remain  near  me  with  the 
ahrecks.** 

"I  go  where  there  is  danger;  but  what  is  the  oath 
among  these  abrecks  t  " 

"  Each  has  his  own :  here  is  one  of  the  bravest.  They 
vow  to  expose  themselves  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period 
to  every  kind  of  peril,  to  grant  no  grace  to  enemies,  to 
pardon  no  oflFender,  not  even  a  friend,  not  even  a  brother; 
to  take  whatever  pleases  them,  especially  when  the  thing 
that  pleases  presents  itself  to  view.  This  oath  taken,  the 
man  who  has  taken  it  can  kill,  pillage,  plunder,  without 
being  punished.  He  is  fulfilling  a  vow.  Abrecks  of 
this  sort  are  bad  friends,  but  good  enemies." 

"  And, "  inquired  Ammalat  Beg,  a  dweller  of  the  plain 
to  whom  the  customs  of  the  mountaineer  were  for  the 
most  part  imknown,  "  what  induces  these  horsemen  to 
take  such  oaths  1  " 

"  Some  take  them  from  excessive  courage,  others  from 
excessive  poverty,  others  again  because  they  are  a  prey 
to  some  sorrow.  There,  for  instance,  —  notice  that 
Kabardian  rubbing  up  his  gun  rusted  by  the  night-fog ; 
well,  he  became  an  abreck  for  five  years  because  his  mis- 
tress died  of  small-pox.  During  those  five  years  you 
might  better  have  a  tiger  for  a  friend  than  him  for  a  com- 
rade. He  has  already  been  wounded  three  times,  and 
every  woiind,  instead  of  curbing,  spurs  him  on.** 

"  Singular  custom  !  And  how  does  an  abreck  return  to 
his  family  after  such  a  life  t  ** 

"  Quite  naturally ;  the  past  is  past.  The  abreck  for- 
gets it,  and  the  neighbors  are  wary  of  remembering  it. 


SULTANETTA.  231 

Freed  from  his  oath,  he  hecomes  as  gentle  as  a  Iamb. 
But  it  is  quite  dark ;  the  Terek  is  shrouded  in  fog :  it  is 
time." 

Djemboulat  gave  a  whistle,  and  his  whistle  was  in- 
stantly carried  along  the  entire  line  of  the  camp.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  all  were  in  the  saddle.  After  deciding 
npon  the  best  place  to  cross  the  Terek,  the  little  company 
descended  quietly  to  the  river  bank.  Ammalat  Beg 
admired  the  stillness,  not  merely  of  the  soldiers,  but  also 
of  the  horses.  Xot  one  whinnied  on  the  way.  Each 
in  placing  his  feet  seemed  fearful  of  causing  the  stones  to 
roll  and  of  thus  warning  the  enemy.  They  soon  reached 
the  river's  edge.  The  water  was  low;  a  headland,  half 
sand,  half  stones,  jutted  out  towards  the  opposite  bank. 
The  whole  company,  by  employing  double  the  time, 
could  have  crossed  at  that  point  almost  dry-footed;  but 
half  of  the  troops  ascended  the  river  to  swim  across  and 
hide  the  principal  passage  from  the  Cossacks.  Those 
who  were  sure  of  their  horses  leaped  straight  from  the 
bonk  into  the  stream.  Others  tied  leathern  bottles  to 
their  horses ;  the  swift  current  bore  them  away,  but  they 
finally  reached  the  bank  and  scaled  it  wherever  they  were 
able.  A  dense  fog  had  spread,  apparently  to  conceal  all 
their  movements. 

It  is  essential  for  the  reader  to  know  that  all  along  the 
Terek  —  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  —  there  exists  a 
line  called  the  border  watch.  Cossacks  were  stationed  on 
every  hillock.  As  you  pass  during  the  day,  you  notice 
on  each  rise  of  ground  a  tall  post  with  a  cask  at  its 
extremity.  This  cask  is  full  of  straw,  and  ready  to  light 
at  the  first  cry  of  alarm.  To  this  pole  a  saddled  horse  is 
constantly  tied,  and  near  it,  lying  on  the  ground,  is  the 
sentinel. 

At  night  the  watch  is  doubled. 


232  SULTANETTA. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  these  precautions,  the  mountaineers, 
wrapped  in  their  bourkas,  enveloped  in  darkness  and 
surrounded  by  fog,  pass  between  the  pickets  like  water 
through  a  sieve. 

This  time,  also,  it  happened  thus.  The  subjugated 
mountaineers,  knowing  the  Cossack  picket-posts  marvel- 
lously well,  were  placed  at  the  head  of  each  band,  and 
conducted  it  through  the  line. 

At  only  a  single  point  was  there  bloodshed. 

Djemboulat  himself  struck  the  blow. 

On  reaching  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Terek,  he  or- 
dered Ammalat  Beg  to  climb  the  steep,  get  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  picket,  see  how  many  men  were  stationed 
there,  and  strike  his  steel  upon  the  flint  as  many  times 
as  there  were  men. 

Ammalat  Beg  turned  away  and  disappeared  into  the 
night. 

Meanwhile  Djemboulat  wormed  along  like  a  snake  up 
the  8lop)e  of  the  mound. 

The  Cossack  was  dozing.  He  seemed  conscious  of  a 
slight  noise  arising  from  the  water-side,  and  gazed  un- 
easily in  the  direction  of  the  river. 

Djemboulat  was  only  three  steps  away  from  him :  he 
was  lying  on  his  stomach  behind  a  bush. 

"The  cursed  ducks!  "  muttered  the  CosMck,  who  had 
come  to  the  Terek  from  the  banks  of  the  Don,  "  they  are 
in  good  spirits  even  at  night ;  they  flutter  and  frolic  in 
the  water  like  the  elves  of  Kiev. " 

On  the  other  hand,  at  this  moment  Ammalat  Beg 
had  attained  a  point  from  which  he  commanded  the 
knoll. 

There  were  two  Cossacks:  one  was  asleep  wrapped  in 
his  bourka,  the  other  was  supposed  to  keep  awake. 

Ammalat  Beg  clicked  the  steel  twice  upon  the  flint. 


SULTANETTA  233 

The  sound  and  the  sparks  drew  the  Cossack's  attention. 

"  Oh  !  oh !  "  said  he,  "  what  is  that  ?  Wolves,  perhaps ; 
their  jaws  snap,  and  their  eyes  glitter!  " 

And  he  faced  about,  the  better  to  see. 

Just  then  he  thought  he  saw  a  man's  figure  through 
the  darkness. 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  cry,  "  To  arms !  "  but  the  cry 
was  stayed  on  his  lips,  —  Djemboulat's  kandjiar  was 
plunged  to  the  hilt  in  his  breast. 

He  fell  without  a  moan. 

The  other  Cossack  did  not  even  wake,  and  passed 
without  knowing  it  from  sleep  unto  death. 

The  post  was  wrenched  out  and  thrown  with  its  cask 
into  the  river. 

It  was  a  breach  through  which  the  bulk  of  the  troops 
passed  and  overran  the  district. 

The  raid  was  complete  and  wholly  successful.  All 
peasants  attempting  resistance  were  killed  on  the  spot. 
The  rest  hid  themselves  or  fled.  A  large  number  of 
prisoners  were  taken,  both  men  and  women. 

The  Kabardians  entered  the  houses,  took  everything 
they  could  find,  and  carried  oflF  all  that  was  transportable ; 
but  they  did  not  burn  villages,  nor  devastate  fields,  nor 
spoil  vineyards. 

"  Why  touch  God's  gifts  and  man's  labor  ?  "  said  they. 
"  That  would  be  the  work  of  brigands  instead  of  noble 
mountaineers. " 

In  an  hour's  time  all  was  over  for  the  inhabitants 
within  a  radius  of  three  leagues. 

But  all  was  not  over  for  the  plunderers. 

The  call  to  arms  had  echoed  all  along  the  border;  a 
shepherd  had  started  the  alarm. 

He  had  been  killed,  but  too  late. 

A  great  circle  had  been  formed  about  the  loose  horses 


234  8ULTANETTA. 

ranging  over  the  steppe,  and  thoee  forming  it  collected 
the  entire  herd. 

A  Tchetclien  horseman  headed  the  band  on  an  excel- 
lent horse,  and  darted  off  at  a  gallop. 

Every  horse  whinnied,  flung  his  tail,  shook  his  mane 
to  the  wind,  and  set  off  in  the  train  of  the  Tchetchen. 
He  led  the  entire  band  to  the  Terek,  passed  between  two 
pickets,  and  plunged  into  the  stream  on  his  horse. 

All  the  rest  of  the  horses  followed  in  his  wake. 

They  were  seen  to  pass  like  shadows;  the  soxind  of 
their  plunge  into  the  water  was  heard,  and  that  was  alll 


SULTANETTA.  235 


VII. 

At  sunrise  the  fog  lifted,  uncovering  a  grand  but 
dreadful  spectacle. 

A  large  troop  of  riders  were  returning  to  the  mountain, 
dragging  behind  them  their  prisoners,  some  of  whom 
were  tied  to  the  stirrups,  some  to  the  saddle,  others  to 
the  horses'  tails. 

The  hands  of  all  were  bound. 

Tears  and  groans  of  despair  were  mingled  with  shouts 
of  triumph.  ^ 

Laden  with  spoils,  hindered  by  the  slow  pace  of  the 
herds  of  cattle,  the  raiders  were  making  their  way  to  the 
Terek.  The  princes,  nobles,  and  picked  horsemen  rode 
gayly  along  as  escort,  leading  and  flanking  the  cortege. 

But,  in  the  distance  and  from  all  directions,  the  bor- 
der Cossacks  began  to  appear,  skulking  behind  trees  and 
hiding  behind  bushes. 

The  Tchetchens  sent  out  sharp-shooters,  and  the  fight- 
ing began. 

On  all  sides  gunshots  blazed  and  flashed. 

The  vanguard  pushed  on,  driving  the  herds  before, 
and  forcing  them  to  swim  the  river. 

But  clouds  of  dust  were  then  seen  rising  behind  them. 

It  was  the  storm. 

Six  hundred  mountaineers,  led  by  Djemboulat  and 
Ammalat  Beg,  stopped  their  horses  and  faced  about  to 
give  the  others  time  to  cross  the  river. 

With  no  attempt  at  order  they  charged  the  Cossacks 
at  full  speed,  yelling  as  they  rode,  though  not  a  gun  was 


236  8ULTANETTA. 

taken  from  behind  the  back,  not  a  sword  gleamed  in  a 
horseman's  hand. 

The  Tchetchens  have  a  way  of  handling  their  weapons 
only  at  the  last  moment. 

But  at  twenty  paces  from  the  Cossacks  they  brought 
their  guns  to  tlieir  shoulders  and  fired ;  then  they  swung 
the  guns  behind  their  backs,  and  drew  their  schaskas 

But,  even  while  responding  with  a  lively  fusillade,  the 
Cossacks  drew  rein,  whirled ,  and  fled. 

Spurred  on  by  their  eagerness  for  a  fight,  the  moun- 
taineers started  in  pursuit.  The  fugitives  led  them  on 
towards  a  wood. 

In  this  wood  the  soldiers  of  the  Forty-third  Regiment 
were  lying  in  ambush. 

They  formed  a  square,  lowered  their  bayonets,  and 
fired  on  the   Tchetchens. 

In  vain  did  the  latter  leap  down  from  their  horses  and 
endeavor  to  penetrate  the  forest  in  order  to  attack  the 
Russians  in  flank  and  rear. 

The  artillery  joined  in  with  its  boom. 

Kotzarev,  the  dread  of  the  Tchetchens,  the  man  whose 
bravery  was  most  noted  among  them,  commanded  the 
Russian  troops. 

From  that  time  forward,  there  was  no  doubting  the 
outcome.  Three  successive  volleys  of  artillery  dispersed 
the  mountaineers,  who  retraced  their  course  toward 
the  river. 

But  on  the  bank  of  the  Terek,  raking  the  course  of 
the  stream,  a  masked  battery  had  been  stationed. 

It  opened  fire. 

The  canister  burst  in  the  thickest  of  their  flight. 

At  every  shot  several  horses,  struck  dead,  rolled  over 
in  the  stream,  dragging  down  their  riders  and  drowning 
them. 


SULTANETTA.  237 

It  was  fearful,  then,  to  see  the  prisoners,  bound  to  the 
horses,  unable  to  help  themselves,  and  exposed  like  their 
conquerors  to  the  Russian  fire. 

The  old  Terek,  reddened  with  blood,  received  all, 
friends  and  enemies,  within  its  cold  waves,  tossing  the 
bodies  of  men  and  animals  and  sweeping  all,  living  and 
dead,  toward  the  sea. 

Waiting  to  the  last,  covering  the  retreat,  and  strug- 
gling like  lions  against  the  soldiers,  Djemboulat  and 
Ammalat  Beg  with  a  hundred  horsemen  guarded  the 
crossing,  charging  the  Russian  infantry  who  came  within 
reach,  swooping  down  on  the  border  Cossacks,  returning 
to  their  comrades,  and  encouraging  them  by  Avord  and 
deed ;  and  finally,  they  also,  last  of  all,  plunged  into  the 
Terek,  and  crossed. 

Upon  reaching  the  opposite  bank,  they  leaped  from 
their  horses,  and,  guns  in  hand,  stood  ready  to  dispute 
the  passage  of  the  Russians,  who,  crowding  on  the  bank, 
made  a  feint  of  clearing  the  river  in  turn. 

But,  meanwhile,  two  versts  below  the  place  where 
they  were  joining  battle,  a  large  body  of  Cossacks  had 
crossed  the  Terek  and  taken  up  a  position  between  river 
and  mountain. 

Their  echoing  shouts,  joyous  and  triumphant,  behind 
the  Tchetchens,  alone  revealed  their  presence. 

The  destruction  of  the  mountaineers  was  inevitable. 

Ammalat  Beg  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance. 

"Well,  Djemboulat,"  said  he,  "all  is  over,  and  our 
fate  is  decided.  Do  what  you  will  yourself ;  as  for  me, 
the  Russians  shall  not  have  me  alive :  it  is  better  to  die 
by  the  bullet  than  the  rope !  " 

"And  I,"  said  Djemboulat,  —  "think  you  my  hands 
are  made  for  chains?  Allah  forbid!  The  Russians 
may  have  my  body;  my  soul,  never!  " 


238  StJLTANETTA. 

Then,  remounting  his  horse  and  standing  in  the  stir- 
rups, he  cried, — 

"  Comrades,  fate  is  against  us,  but  our  steel  is  left. 
Let  us  sell  our  lives  dearly  to  the  unbelievers.  The 
conqueror  is  not  he  who  wins  the  battlefield,  but  he  who 
wins  glory ;  and  glory  belongs  to  him  that  prefers  death 
to  captivity." 

**  We  will  die  !  we  will  diel  **  shouted  the  mountain- 
eers in  chorus. 

"  And  let  our  good  horses  die  with  us,  and  when  dead 
serve  us  as  a  rampart, "  said  Djemboulat. 

And,  leaping  from  his  horse,  he  drew  his  sword  and, 
setting  the  example,  stabbed  him  in  the  throat. 

Every  mountaineer  did  the  same,  while  yelling  defiance 
at  the  Russians. 

A  great  ring  of  dead  horses  encircled  the  Tchetchens. 

Then  each  man  crouched  behind  his  horse  with  loaded 
gun. 

Seeing  what  a  terrible  defence  the  mountaineers  were 
prepared  to  make,  the  Cossacks  paused,  hesitating  as  to 
whether  they  ought  to  attack  men  in  such  desperate 
straits. 

And  then  a  voice  rang  out  upon  the  silence;  a 
Tchetchen  was  chanting  the  death-song. 

The  voice  was  firm,  vibrant,  ringing ;  and  the  Russians 
could  hear  the  song  from  the  first  word  to  the  last. 

•*  Glory  be  ours!  Dingrace  to  the  foe  I 
Better  to  die  than  shame  to  know." 

All  the  doomed  men  repeated  in  chorus,  — 

**  Olory  be  ours  I  Disgrace  to  the  foe  I 
Better  to  die  than  shame  to  know.** 

Then  the  solo  voice  continued,  — 


StJLTANETTA.  239 

"  Oh,  weep,  fair  dames,  on  mountain-side, 
And  to  our  hearts  give  sigh  for  sigh, 
For,  thinking  of  sweetheart  and  bride, 
Your  mountaineers  are  now  to  die. 
For  this,  the  sleep  that  meets  the  brave 
Is  not  the  sleep  that  sweet  life  gave 
Mid  songs  of  joy  and  lullaby. 
No,  't  is  the  dreary  sleep  that  bids 
The  rock  or  clod  that  weights  our  lids, 
While  tempests  thunder  in  the  sky. 

•'  But,  no ;  weep  not,  ye  sweet  brides,  so. 
The  houris  green,  your  sister  things, 
Will  come  with  eyes  that  catch  the  glow 
Of  morning-stars  through  heaven  that  go, 
And  take  us  hence  on  white,  white  wings. 

"  Nay,  mother,  gaze  not  up  the  road, 
Put  out  the  fire,  then  seek  thy  bed  ; 
In  vain  thy  heart  its  iU.  doth  bode,  — 
Dear  mother,  none  wait  for  the  dead. 
Seek  not  thy  neighbor  of  the  plain. 
And  say,  to  lull  thy  bitter  pain, 
'  My  son  will  come  to-morrow,  and  —  * 
Thy  son  is  on  the  hill  at  rest : 
His  heart  is  broken  in  his  breast, 
His  sword  is  broken  in  his  hand. 

Chorus, 

**  Glory  be  ours !  disgrace  to  the  foe  I 
Better  to  die  than  shame  to  know. 

"  Weep  not  vain  tears  ;  though  life  be  done, 
Oh,  mother,  I  avenged  have  died : 
Thy  milk,  while  in  my  veins  it  run, 
To  lion's  blood  had  changed  its  tide. 
And  never  in  the  hottest  fight 
Did  thy  son  e'er  in  coward  Mght 


240  SULTANETTA. 

Hear  voice  of  fear  iu  counsel  deep. 
He  falls  with  bands  nor  clasped  nor  bound. 
He  falls  at  last  on  brave  men's  ground, 
And  here  he  sleep  his  last  long  sleep. 

**  The  rill  that  runs  from  mountain  height 
In  spring,  soon  dries  its  waters  pure  ; 
The  dawn  that  heralds  morning's  light 
"Wears  robes  all  flowery-hued  and  bright,  — 
Her  realm  and  rule  an  hour  endure. 
Oh,  comrades,  now  we  '11  make  our  prayer, 
"We  go  no  farther  on  our  way, 
But  like  the  brooklet,  once  so  fair, 
We  cease,  and  fade  like  dawn  of  day. 

**  Yet  we,  at  least,  shall  pass  in  wrath 
And  leave  behind  the  tempest's  path 
"Which  stains  the  heavens  with  redness  dire ; 
On  flowers,  on  sands  we  '11  leave  a  trace 
That  time  nor  storm  shall  e'er  efface. 
The  stains  of  blood  and  smoke  and  fire. 

Chorus. 

**  Glory  be  ours !  disgrace  to  the  foe ! 
Better  to  die  than  shame  to  know.** 

Struck  by  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  before  their  eyes, 
Cossacks  and  soldiers  listened  respectfully  to  the  death* 
song  of  twelve  hxindred  brave  men. 

At  List  the  signal  was  given:  a  mighty  huzza  burst 
from  the  Russian  ranks. 

The  Tchetchens  responded  with  a  death-like  silence. 

But  when  the  Russians  were  no  more  than  twenty 
paces  from  them,  they  rose ;  each  sighted  his  man,  and  at 
the  order,  "  Fire !  **  given  by  Djemboulat  and  Ammalat 
Beg,  a  wreath  of  flame  enveloped  the  beleaguered  men. 


SULTANETTA.  241 

Then,  breaking  his  gun,  every  man  sent  up  a  war-cry 
as  he  drew  his  schaska  with  the  right  hand,  and  his 
kandjiar  with  the  left. 

Three  times  did  the  Russians  assail  the  bloody  fortifi- 
cation, three  times  were  they  repulsed. 

The  fourth  time,  they  gathered  their  forces  for  a  final 
effort;  during  ten  minutes  longer,  like  a  great  serpent 
coiled  in  a  circle,  flashed  the  sabres  and  kandjiars 
counterfeiting  its  scales. 

At  last  the  gigantic  reptile  was  broken  into  three  or 
four  pieces.  The  conflict  became  terrible.  A  hand-to- 
hand  struggle  ensued.  Fountains  of  blood  gushed  forth 
amidst  curses  and  death-shrieks. 

The  abrecks,  that  they  might  not  become  separated  in 
the  fray,  bound  themselves  together  with  their  girdles. 
None  asked  for  mercy,  none  demanded  quarter. 

All  fell  under  the  Russian  bayonets. 

A  small  group  was  still  on  their  feet  and  still  fought 
on. 

In  the  centre  of  this  group,  like  two  Titans,  stood 
Djejnboulat  and  Ammalat  Beg. 

For  one  instant  the  Russians  recoiled  before  that 
hopeless  defence,  and  made  a  pause. 

"  On  !  "  cried  Djemboulat,  leading  his  last  onset.  "  On, 
Ammalat  Beg !     Death  is  liberty !  " 

But  Ammalat  Beg  was  deaf  to  the  last  call  of  the 
Tchetchen  chief.  A  blow  on  the  head  from  the  butt  of 
a  gun  had  stretched  him  senseless  on  the  ground,  cov- 
ered with  the  dead  and  steeped  in  gore. 


16 


242  SULTANETTA. 


VIII. 

Colonel  Yekkovsky  to  his  fiancee,  Marie  N.,  at 
Smolensk :  — 

Derbexd.  Oct.  7,  1819. 

Two  months!  —  It  is  a  very  brief  period  in  the  com- 
mon course  of  life ;  but  to  me,  the  two  mouths  that  have 
just  rolled  by,  my  dariing  Marie,  are  two  centuries.  Two 
centuries  ago,  then,  instead  of  two  months  ago,  I  re- 
ceived your  dear  letter. 

During  that  time  tlie  moon  has  revolved  twice  around 
the  earth. 

There  is  a  past  which  I  recall  with  pleasure ;  there  is 
a  future  into  which  I  plunge  with  hope ;  but,  away  from 
you,  with  no  news  of  you,  there  is  no  present.  The  Cos- 
sack who  brings  the  post  appears;  he  holds  a  letter  in 
his  hand.  I  spring  up,  recognize  your  writing,  break  the 
seal,  kiss  the  lines  penned  by  your  dear  hand.  I  devour 
the  thoughts  dictated  by  your  pure  heart.  I  am  happy,  I 
have  left  the  earth,  I  am  in  heaven!  13ut  scarcely  have 
I  closed  your  letter  Ixifore  ill-boding  thoughts  hivade  my 
mind.  That  is  all  well,  doubtless,  but  all  that  is  in  the 
past,  and  is,  perhaps,  no  longer,  even  now.  Is  she 
well,  the  one  for  whom  I  would  give  my  life  ?  Does  she 
love  me  as  well  to-day  as  yesterday  ?  Will  the  happy 
time  ever  come  when  we  shall  bo  reunited,  never  to  part 
again ;  when  there  shall  be  for  us  neither  separation  nor 
distance;  when  the  expressions  of  our  love  shall  not  be- 
come chilled  in  passing  from  heart  to  pai>er  ?     Or,  before 


SULTANETTA.  243 

that  time  shall  come,  alas !  will  not  the  letters  themselves 
have  grown  cold  ?  Will  not  the  fire  which  burns  on  the 
altar  of  her  heart  have  gone  out,  dying  little  by  little  1 
Pardon  all  these  fears,  my  love;  they  are  the  growths 
which  flourish  on  the  soil  of  absence.  With  my  heart 
near  yours,  I  believe  everything;  away  from  you,  on  the 
contrary,  I  doubt  everything.  You  bid  me  take  you  into 
my  life,  to  tell  you  what  I  do,  what  takes  place  around 
me  in  this  little  vortex  of  which  I  am  the  centre ;  wliat 
I  think,  how  I  busy  myself,  even  from  hour  to  hour, 
from  minute  to  minute.  It  has  forced  me  to  endure 
again  all  tlie  pangs  which  I  have  just  described,  hard- 
hearted being,  who  will  that  I  shall  not  only  suffer,  but 
analyze  my  sufferings,  tear  my  wounds! 

However,  you  command,  I  obey. 

My  life  is  the  imprint  of  a  chain  on  the  sand.  My 
service,  if  not  amusing,  by  its  fatigue  helps  at  least  to 
pass  the  time.  I  am  thrown  into  a  frightful  climate 
which  no  constitution  can  withstand,  into  the  midst  of  a 
fellowship  which  stifles  my  soul.  I  no  longer  find  among 
my  associates  the  only  one  who  could  have  understood 
me,  nor  any  one  among  the  Asiatics  with  whom  to  share 
a  sentiment.  Everything  about  me  is  so  wild  that  I 
bruise  myself  on  everything  I  touch ;  so  narrow  that  I 
seem  to  breathe  the  air  of  a  dungeon.  Warmth  could 
more  easily  be  drawn  from  an  iceberg  than  a  glow  of 
enjoyment  from  this  accursed  country. 

I  will  give  you  a  detailed  account  of  my  last  week. 
It  is  the  most  interesting  and  the  liveliest  of  all  that  I 
have  spent  in  the  City  of  the  Iron  Gates. 

I  recall  having  written  you  that  we  were  returning, 
with  the  Governor-General  of  the  Caucasus,  from  the 
expedition  upon  Akoutcha.  We  succeeded  off-hand ;  Shah 
Ali  Khan  fled  into  Persia.     We  burned  a  dozen  villages 


244  SULTANETTA. 

with  the  hay  and  corn ;  we  flayed,  spitted,  and  rnastud  the 
enemy's  sheep.  Finally,  when  the  snow  forced  the  in- 
habitants to  come  down  from  the  cliffs,  they  surrendered 
and  gave  hostages;  after  which,  we  returned  to  the  for- 
tress of  Bounaia.  There,  our  division  was  obliged  to 
break  up  for  the  winter,  and  my  regiment  has  come  back 
to  its  quarters  in  Derbend. 

The  next  day  the  general  was  compelled  to  leave  us  to 
enter  upon  a  second  expedition  on  the  border.  Conse- 
quently, there  was  a  great  throng  of  people  anxious  to 
take  leave  of  their  well-beloved  chief.  Alexis  Petrovitch 
left  his  tent  and  came  to  us.  Who  does  not  know  liis 
face,  if  not  from  life,  at  least  from  portraits  t  I  do  not 
know  of  such  another  in  existence,  another  so  expressive 
as  his. 

A  poet  once  wrote  of  him :  — 

*♦  Fly,  Tchetchen,  fly !    The  man  whose  word 
In  vain  was  never  known  to  warn. 
Is  roused;  his  rally-cry  is  heard. 
His  order  passed  :  '  We  march  the  mom  t ' 
The  whistling  ball  that  carries  death 
Takes  but  the  heaving  of  his  breath. 
His  shout 's  the  cry  the  mighty  saith, 
It  is  the  thunder  of  the  fight. 
He  bends  his  brow  with  love  or  hate 
Of  friends  or  foes,  and  names  their  fate  ; 
And  where  he  points,  or  soon  or  late, 
Death  rushes  on,  nor  stays  his  might." 

And  the  poet  has  not  said  too  much. 

You  should  see  his  coolness  in  battle,  his  eaae  on  his 
reception  day  !  Sometimes  he  strews  l)efore  the  Asiatics 
the  garlands  of  his  flowery  speech,  as  full  of  imagery  as 
Persian  poetry ;  sometimes  he  routs  them,  pursues,  and 
eroshea   them  with  a  single  word.      In  vain   do  these 


SULTANETTA.  245 

demons  of  deceit  endeavor  to  hide  their  most  secret  plans 
in  the  recesses  of  their  hearts;  his  eye  penetrates  them, 
and  a  week,  a  month,  a  year  beforehand,  he  will  tell 
them  what  they  intend  to  do.  It  is  amusing  to  see  how  a 
man  of  guilty  conscience  turns  white  and  red  under  the 
torture  of  his  steady,  piercing  eye,  and  how  readily  the 
same  eye  discerns  merit  wherever  it  is  to  be  found,  re- 
wards it  with  a  smile,  and  how,  with  a  word  that  goes 
straight  to  the  heart,  he  repays  courage  and  loyalty. 

May  God  grant  to  every  brave  soldier  the  glory  and 
happiness  of  serving  under  such  a  leader! 

It  is  curious  to  note  his  relations  in  his  own  house 
with  those  who  serve  under  him.  It  is  a  study  for  the 
observer.  Every  man  distinguished  by  courage,  spirit, 
or  any  talent  whatever,  has  free  entrance  and  full  swing. 
There  is  no  more  rank,  no  more  etiquette.  Each  has  a 
right  to  say  whatever  enters  his  mind,  to  do  as  he 
pleases.  Alexis  Petrovitch  ^  talks  and  laughs  with  each 
as  a  friend,  advising  and  instructing  him  like  a  brother. 

We  were,  then,  in  camp.  It  was  last  Tuesday,  at  tea- 
time.  His  aide-de-camp  had  induced  him  to  read  Napo- 
leon's campaign  in  Italy,  that  poem  of  the  military  art,  as 
he  calls  it.  Surrounding  him,  we  praised,-  criticised,  and 
discussed  it.  The  great  captain  who,  like  Hannibal  and 
Charlemagne,  had  crossed  the  Alps,  would  have  been 
satisfied  with  the  remarks  and  even  with  the  criticisms  of 
one  who  had  so  long  disputed  with  him  the  great  redoubt 
of  Borodino.  After  tea,  the  reading  finished,  we  engaged 
in  gymnastics,  we  ran  races  and  leaped  ropes  and  ditches; 
we  tested  our  strength  in  all  sorts  of  exercises;  the  com- 
pany was  good,  the  view  was  magnificent.  Our  camp 
was  near  Tarki,  overlooked  by  the  fortress  of  Bournai'a. 

^  The  author  has  intended  to  portray  the  brave  jajeneral,  Yer 
molof,  the  senior  aud  the  model  of  llussian  officers. 


246  SULTANETTA. 

Behind  the  fortress  the  sun  was  setting.  At  the  foot  of 
the  clifif  was  the  chamkal's  house,  and  farther  away,  on 
the  steepest  slope,  lay  the  town.  Beyond  all,  to  the 
east  spread  the  vast  steppe,  and  beyond  the  steppe 
stretched  tlie  blue  expanse  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  Tartar 
begs,  Tchetchen  princes,  Cossacks  from  every  river  in 
Russia,  hostages  from  every  mountain,  and  the  officers  of 
all  our  regiments,  formed  a  most  curious  and  picturesque 
scene  in  which  uniforms,  tchokas,  and  coats  of  mail  were 
mingled.  The  singers,  dancers,  and  musicians  made  a 
group  apart,  and  the  soldiers  took  their  share  in  the  f3te 
a  few  hundred  paces  below,  their  shakoes  jauntily  perched 
over  one  ear. 

The  conversation  turned  on  the  quality  of  the  different 
poniards  of  the  Caucasus.  Eacli  vaunted  his  own  as 
made  by  the  best  blade-smith.  Captain  Betovitch,  who 
had  a  kandjiar  purchased  at  Andrev  and  mounted  at 
Kouba,  laid  a  wager  that  he  could  pierce  three  roubles 
placed  one  on  top  of  the  other. 

The  bet  was  taken ;  three  roubles  were  stacked  up  on 
a  block,  and,  left-handed  though  he  is,  Betovitch  pierced 
the  three  roubles. 

Just  then,  a  frightened  buffalo  dashed  into  the  midst 
of  the  musicians,  and  to  the  great  delight  of  the  on- 
lookers, created  utter  confusion.  They  scattered  in  all 
directions,  dodging  and  leaping  out  of  his  way,  and 
enraging  him  by  their  screams  as  they  endeavored  to 
escape. 

The  furious  animal  aimed  for  the  group  where  General 
Yermolof  was  standing.  Some  of  the  officers  drew  their 
swords,  others  their  poniards,  and  placed  themselves  in 
front  of  the  lieutenantrgovemor;  but,  brushing  them  all 
aside,  he  drew  liis  schaska  and  stationed  himself  in  the 
animal's  path. 


SULTANETTA.  247 

The  buffalo  doubtless  thought  that  he  had  met  a 
worthy  adversary,  and  bounded  towards  him. 

With  the  agility  of  a  young  man,  the  general  lightly 
avoided  the  animal;  but,  in  the  very  act  of  springing 
aside,  his  arm  was  uplifted,  something  was  seen  to  flash 
like  lightning,  and,  while  the  buffalo's  head,  detached 
from  the  shoulders  by  a  single  blow,  fell  at  the  general's 
feet  and  remained  stuck  in  tlie  earth  by  its  horns,  the 
body  by  its  own  impetus  continued  three  or  four  paces  in 
its  course,  and  fell,  gushing  forth  a  torrent  of  blood. 

A  great  cry  of  astonishment  and  admiration  arose  from 
the  spectators. 

All  the  officers  gathered  about  the  general,  —  some  ex- 
amining the  animal's  head,  others  its  body. 

"  A  terrible  sword  your  Excellency  has  there, "  said 
Captain  Betovitch. 

"  It  is  worthy  of  going  with  your  poniard,  captain, " 
returned  the  general. 

And  he  presented  him  the  sword. 

The  captain  hesitated  to  accept  it. 

"  Take  it,  take  it,"  said  Yermolof ;  "  it  is  yours." 

And  he  gave  him,  as  he  would  have  given  an  ordinary 
sword,  that  schaska  whose  blade  alone  had  cost  three  or 
four  hundred  roubles,  and  whose  sheath  was  worth  as 
much  more  merely  for  its  weight  in  silver. 

They  were  still  talking  about  this  prodigious  feat  when 
an  officer  of  the  border  Cossacks  was  announced  to  the 
general,  coming  on  behalf  of  Colonel  Kotzarev. 

The  officer  entered,  and  presented  a  report. 

"  Permit  me,  gentlemen  ?  "  said  the  general,  as  if  he 
were  among  his  equals. 

And  that  is  the  admirable  side  of  this  man :  he  con- 
stantly raises  you  to  his  own  level,  without  descending 
to  yours. 


248  SULTANETTA. 

You  may  suppose  that  the  permission  was  granted. 

He  read  the  report,  accompanying  its  reading  with  a 
slight  undertone  of  approval. 

Then  he  said  aloud,  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  have  good  news :  there  is  a  cross  of 
St.  George  for  one  of  our  brave  oflBcers. " 

We  drew  near  with  interest. 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  Kotzarev  has  exterminated  a 
dozen  or  fifteen  hundred  mountaineers.  The  bandits 
had  crossed  the  Terek  and  devastated  a  village;  but 
Kotzarev  has  met  and  overpowered  them,  and  he  sends 
me  five  prisoners;  these  are  all  that  remain  of  their 
band." 

Then,  turning  to  the  Cossack  officer,  he  said,  — 

"  Bring  me  a  few  of  those  gentlemen;  I  '11  wager  that 
some  of  my  acquaintances  are  among  the  rogues." 

They  were  brought  before  him ;  at  sight  of  them  his 
brows  knit  in  a  frown. 

"Wretches I"  said  he,  "this  is  the  third  time  that 
you  have  been  caught,  and  twice  you  have  been  released 
on  an  oath  never  to  engage  in  your  plundering  again. 
What  do  you  lack  t  Pastures  t  —  you  have  them ;  flocks  t  — 
you  have  them ;  safety  1  —  am  I  not  here  to  secure  it  for 
you  t  —  Take  them  away,  and  let  them  dangle  from  their 
own  ropes.  However,  they  themselves  shall  choose  one 
of  their  number  who  shall  be  set  at  liberty  after  he  has 
witnessed  the  execution,  that  he  may  carry  an  account 
of  it  to  his  comrades." 

Four  men  were  led  away :  a  fifth  remained. 

He  was  a  Tartar  beg;  not  until  then  did  we  notice 
him;  our  whole  attention  had  been  absorbed  by  the 
others. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-three,  of  marvellouf 
beauty  and  with  the  figure  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere. 


SULTANETTA.  249 

He  was  awaiting  his  turn  in  an  attitude  of  supreme 
grace  and  regal  pride. 

As  the  general's  eye  rested  upon  him,  he  bowed  and 
resumed  his  first  attitude. 

On  his  face  could  be  read  that  perfect  resignation  to 
fate  which  is  the  virtue  of  the  Mussulman. 

The  general's  glance,  charged  with  threatening  wrath, 
fell  upon  him;  but  the  prisoner's  face  underwent  no 
change ;  he  did  not  even  lower  his  eyes. 

"  Ammalat  Beg, "  the  general  at  length  said,  after  a 
moment's  silence  that  had  seemed  a  long  time  to  those 
whose  curiosity  formed  their  sole  interest  in  the  pro- 
ceedings, —  "  Ammalat  Beg,  do  you  remember  that  you 
are  a  Russian  subject,  that  you  live  under  the  E.ussian 
laws  ? " 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  it, "  replied  Ammalat  Beg ; 
"  and  if  they  had  defended  my  rights,  I  should  not  to-day 
be  standing  like  a  culprit  before  you." 

"  You  are  both  unjust  and  ungrateful, "  returned  the 
general,  "  You  and  your  father  have  made  war  on  the 
Russians.  If  a  similar  thing  had  happened  during  a 
reign  of  the  fathers  of  the  caliphs  from  whom  you  pre- 
tend to  have  descended,  your  family  would  not  now  be 
in  existence.  But  our  emperor  is  so  good  that  instead 
of  hanging  you,  he  gives  you  a  government.  How  have 
you  repaid  his  kindness  1  By  open  revolt.  But  that  is 
not  your  greatest  offence,  even:  you  received  into  your 
house  an  enemy  of  Russia;  you  allowed  him  to  assas- 
sinate a  Russian  officer  and  two  soldiers  in  your  presence, 
and  yet,  if  you  had  repented,  I  should  have  pardoned 
you,  in  consideration  of  your  youth  and  your  customs; 
but  no,  you  fled  into  the  mountains  and,  with  Ackmeth 
Khan,  you  have  attacked  a  Russian  post.  Over  and 
above  all  that,  you  became  one  of  Djemboulat's  chiefs, 


250  SULTAN  ETTA. 

and  with  him  have  just  pillaged  the  lands  of  your  former 
friends.     I  need  not  say  what  fate  awaits  you,  need  It" 

"  No,  for  I  know  it, "  answered  Animalat,  quietly ; 
"I  shall  be  shot." 

"  No,  a  ball  bestows  too  noble  a  death  for  me  to  let 
you  die  by  a  ball!  "  answered  the  enraged  Yermolof. 
"  No !  a  cart  shall  be  set  with  its  shaft  in  the  air,  to  the 
shaft  a  rope,  and  to  the  rope  your  neck. " 

"  It  is  quite  the  same  thing, "  replied  Ammalat  Beg, 
" although  not  the  shortest  death.  Yet,"  he  continued, 
"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask :  since  I  am  condemned  before- 
hand, do  not  take  the  trouble  to  give  me  a  trial.  The 
trial  will  not  last  long,  I  know,  but  it  always  causes 
delay." 

"  Agreed,"  answered  the  general. 

Then,  turning  to  his  aids,  he  said, — 

*  Kemove  him,  and  to-morrow  let  all  be  over." 

He  was  led  away. 

The  fate  of  this  young  man,  so  proud,  so  calm,  so 
resigned,  touched  all.  Everybody  pitied  him,  and  the 
more  sincerely  because  they  well  knew  it  was  impossible 
to  save  him,  —  an  example  being  necessary,  and  Yermolof's 
decisions  being  irrevocable. 

No  one  dared  to  plead  for  the  unfortunate  youth. 

Each  went  his  way. 

I  noticed  that  the  general  was  gloomy  as  he  returned 
home.  I,  knoAving  his  heart,  told  myself  that  jjcrhaps  he 
was  sorry  that  no  one  had  opposed  his  decision. 

I  resolved  to  attempt  it. 

I  went  to  head-quarters  ten  minutes  after  he  had 
returned. 

He  was  alone,  his  elbow  resting  upon  the  table.  On 
the  table  lay  the  report  which  he  was  making  to  tho 
emperor. 


SULTANETTA.  251 

Alexis  Petrovitch  has,  as  you  know,  a  great  friendship 
for  me ;  I  am  one  of  his  intimates :  he  was  not  surprised, 
therefore,  at  seeing  me. 

On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  have  heen  expecting 
me,  for  he  said  with  a  smile, — 

"  I  think,  Andre  Ivanovitch,  that  you  have  a  favor  to 
ask.  Ordinarily  you  come  here  as  if  you  were  marching 
to  battle;  but  to-day  one  would  suppose  that  you  were 
treading  the  air,  like  the  Mignon  of  your  favorite  poet. 
I  will  wager  that  you  have  come  to  ask  pardon  for 
Ammalat?" 

"  In  faith  !  you  have  guessed  right,  your  Excellency," 
I  answered. 

"  Sit  down  there  and  let  us  talk  this  matter  over, " 
said  he. 

Then,  after  a  moment's  silence,  he  continued, — 

"  I  know  that  I  am  said  to  regard  the  lives  of  men  as 
so  many  playthings,  and  that  the  blood  of  these  moun- 
taineers is  no  more  esteemed  by  me  than  the  water  that 
flows  from  their  mountains.  The  cruellest  conquerors 
hide  their  cruelty  under  a  semblance  of  forbearance; 
while  I,  on  the  contrary,  have  the  false  reputation  of  a 
merciless  man.  My  name  ought  to  guard  our  frontiers 
more  surely  than  chains  and  fortresses.  It  is  expedient 
that  all  these  Asiatics  know  my  word  to  be  as  inexorable 
as  death.  One  can  persuade  the  European,  move  him 
by  kindness,  touch  him  by  clemency ;  the  Asiatic,  never. 
To  pardon  him  is  more  than  a  weakness,  it  is  a  crime ; 
that  is  why  I  show  them  no  mercy.  I  am  cruel  out  of 
humanity:  the  prospect  of  certain  punishment  alone  can 
guarantee  the  Russians  against  death,  and  prevent  treason 
among  the  Mussulmans.  Among  all  these  people  who 
appear  to  submit,  there  is  not  one  who  is  not  concealing 
wrath,  who  is  not  plotting  vengeance.     My  predecessors 


252  8ULTANETTA. 

have  said  and  my  succensors  will  say :  '  Every  time  that 
the  death-sentence  is  in  question,  I  would  like  with  all 
my  heart  to  panlon.  I  have  the  greatest  desire  to  show 
mercy;  hut,  judge  for  yourself:  can  I  do  itt*  Then 
they  shed  some  tears  over  the  victim.  That  is  all  sham, 
my  dear  fellow !  The  laws  exist,  they  must  be  executed. 
Lives  are  intrusted  to  me,  and  I  must  watch  over  them. 
I  never  talk  in  that  way,  I  never  shed  such  crocodile 
tears;  but,  every  time  that  I  sign  a  death-warrant,  my 
heart  weeps  tears  of  blood." 

Alexis  Petrovitch  was  moved.  He  rose,  took  several 
turns  about  his  tent,  reseated  himself,  and  continued, — 

"  Ah  well,  never  has  the  necessity  for  punishment 
seemed  more  cruel  than  it  has  seemed  to<lay.  One  that 
has  remained  as  long  among  the  Asiatics  as  I  ought  not  to 
pay  any  more  attention  to  a  handsome  face  than  to  a 
letter  of  recommendation.  But,  mark  you,  the  face, 
figure,  voice,  and  bearing  of  this  Ammalat  Beg  has  made 
a  strong  impression  on  me.     I  pity  him. " 

"  A  good  heart  is  wortli  more  than  intellect,  general,  ** 
said  I,  "  and  you  are  fortxmately  gifted :  you  have 
both." 

"  The  heart  of  a  public  man ,  my  dear  fellow,  should 
ground  arms  to  his  intellect.  I  know  very  well  that  I  can 
pardon  Ammalat :  it  rests  with  me ;  but  I  know  also  that 
I  must  punish  him.  Daghestan  is  filled  with  our  ene- 
mies ;  Tarki,  but  half  subdued,  is  ready  to  rise  with  the 
first  puff  of  wind  from  the  mountains ;  we  must  cut  short 
all  of  that  by  a  few  executions,  and  show  the  Tartars 
that  all  must  bow  down  before  the  Russian  laws,  even 
mercy.  If  I  pardon  Ammalat,  there  will  be  but  one 
cry :   •  Yermolof  fears  the  chamkal ! '  " 

"  Yes, "  I  answered ;  "  but  since  we  are  not  to  follow 
the  impulses  of  the  heart,  but  to  consider  and  reflect,  do 


SULTANETTA.  253 

you  not  think  that  the  gratitude  of  Ammalat's  family 
would  have  great  weight  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  The  chamkal  is  an  Asiatic  like  the  rest,  my  dear 
colonel, "  interrupted  Yermolof,  "  and  he  will  be  en- 
chanted if  this  claimant  to  the  principality  no  longer 
exists.  No,  in  this  entire  affair,  I  am  the  least  con- 
cerned in  the  world  about  his  relatives." 

Seeing  this  sort  of  hesitancy  on  the  part  of  the  gov- 
ernor-general, I  pursued  more  bravely. 

"  Require  me  to  perform  triple  service, "  said  I ;  "  give 
me  no  leave  this  year,  and  grant  me  a  pardon  for  this 
young  man.  He  is  young,  and  Russia  may  find  in  him 
a  good  and  brave  servant.  I  make  myself  responsible 
for  him. " 

Alexis  Petrovitch  shook  his  head. 

"  Listen, "  said  he,  "  it  is  sad  to  relate,  but  it  is  a  phil- 
osophical observation  of  mine,  and  one  that  assails 
neither  God  nor  Providence :  rarely  have  I  done  a  good 
deed  of  this  kind  that  has  turned  out  well,  and,  mind 
you,  they  have  not  been  common." 

"  Try  it  once  more,  general,  and  give  us  your  word 
that  if  it  turns  out  badly,  this  shall  be  the  last." 

"  Very  well !  you  wish  it,  —  I  pardon  him ;  although 
I  was  only  waiting  for  a  petition  like  yours  to  excuse  me 
in  my  own  eyes.  I  pardon  him  unconditionally.  It  is 
not  my  custom,  when  I  have  yielded  the  main  point,  to 
haggle  over  details.  But  remember  one  thing :  you  have 
said  that  you  will  be  responsible  for  him. " 

"  Entirely.  I  will  take  him  to  my  quarters,  and  be 
personally  answerable  for  him,  general."  ^ 

"  Never  trust  him,  and  remember  the  old  story  of  the 
viper  warmed  in  the  bosom  of  the  compassionate  man. 
Oh,  the  Asiatics,  the  Asiatics!  one  day  you  will  know 
them,  Verkovsky ;  God  grant  it  may  never  be  at  your 
own  expense!  " 


254  SULTANETTA. 

I  was  so  delighted  tliat  instead  of  replying  to  the  gen- 
eral, or  thanking  him  in  the  least,  I  ran  to  the  tent 
where  Ammalat  Beg  was  held. 

Three  sentiuels  stood  guard  over  him ;  a  lighted  lan- 
tern was  hanging  from  the  centre.  I  went  in.  He  was 
so  deep  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he  failed  to  hear  me. 

I  drew  near  enough  almost  to  touch  him;  he  was 
lying  on  his  bourka,  weeping. 

That  did  not  surprise  me ;  it  is  not  a  cheerful  prospect, 
to  die  at  twenty-three. 

The  tears  that  I  had  just  surprised  gave  me  great 
pleasure :  they  showed  the  value  of  tlie  jmrdon  I  brought. 

"  Ammalat, "  said  I  in  Tartar,  "  Allah  is  great  and  the 
serdar  is  good :  he  grants  you  life. " 

The  young  man  sprang  to  his  feet ;  he  tried  to  speak, 
but  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  utter  a  word,  he 
was  so  overcome. 

"  Life  T     He  grants  me  life  ?  " 

Then  with  a  bitter  smile, — 

"  I  understand, "  lie  added ;  "  for  a  man  to  die  slowly 
in  a  gloomy  prison,  or,  when  lie  is  accustomed  to  the 
Oriental  sun,  to  be  sent  to  languish  amid  the  snows  of 
the  north,  to  be  buried  alive,  separated  from  his  rela- 
tives, his  friends,  his  mistress;  to  be  deprived  of  speech 
with  others,  and  forbidden  to  complain  to  himself:  that 
is  called  life;  that  is  the  panlon  granted  to  the  con- 
demned. If  that  is  the  pardon  I  am  granted,  if  that  is 
the  alternative  I  am  given,  say  that  I  do  not  want  such 
a  pardon.** 

"  You  deceive  yourself,  Ammalat,  **  I  answered.  "  The 
jiardon  is  entire,  unconditional,  without  restrictions. 
You  remain  master  of  your  estates,  your  actions,  your 
will.  Here  is  your  sword ;  the  general  returns  it  to  you, 
confident  that  you  will  henceforth  draw  it  only  on  the 


SULTANETTA.  255 

side  of  the  Russians.  You  shall  live  with  me  until  the 
whole  unhappy  affair  is  forgotten,  and  you  shall  be  my 
friend,  my  brother." 

The  idea  was  new  to  an  Asiatic.  He  looked  at  me : 
two  great  tears  rolled  from  his  eyes. 

"  The  Russians  have  vanquished  me  quite !  "  he  cried. 
"  Pardon  me,  colonel,  for  having  thought  so  badly  of 
you  all.  From  this  hour,  I  become  a  loyal  subject  of 
the  Russian  emperor,  and  my  heart  and  sword  are  his. 
Oh,  my  sword !  my  sword !  "  he  added  looking  affection- 
ately at  the  blade ;  "  let  my  tears  wash  away  the  Russian 
blood  and  the  Tartar  naphtha !  ^  When  and  how  can  I 
thank  you  for  life  and  liberty  ?  " 

I  am  sure,  dear  Marie,  that,  for  this  affair,  you  will 
keep  for  me  one  of  your  sweetest  kisses.  Besides,  in  act- 
ing as  I  did,  I  had  no  thought  but  of  you.  "  Marie  will 
be  pleased,"  I  said  to  myself;  "  Marie  will  reward  me." 
But  when  shall  I  claim  my  reward,  my  darling  1  Your 
mourning  must  still  last  nine  months  longer,  and  the 
general  has  refused  my  leave,  reminding  me  that  I  re- 
nounced it  myself  when  demanding  Ammalat's  life. 

The  fact  is  that  my  presence  is  necessary  to  the  regi- 
ment. Barracks  are  being  constructed  for  our  winter- 
quarters,  and  if  I  leave  the  work  will  stop.  Therefore, 
I  remain :  but  my  heart !  my  poor  heart ! 

We  have  now  been  three  days  in  Derbend;  Ammalat 
is  with  me.  He  says  nothing.  He  becomes  more 
morose,  and  more  barbarous  day  by  day,  but  he  interests 
me  only  the  more.  He  speaks  Russian  well,  but  by 
rote.  I  am  teaching  him  the  alphabet;  he  progresses 
wonderfully.     I  hope  to  make  a  fine  scholar  of  him. 

1  The  Tartars  give  a  blackish  tint  to  the  blades  of  their  swords 
and  poniarils  by  dipping  them  in  naphtha. 


256  8ULTANETTA. 


IX. 


Thk  thoughts  of  Ammalat  Beg  translated  from  the 
Tartar:^  — 

Either  I  have  heen  asleep  heretofore,  or  to-day  I  am 
dreaming.  There  is,  then,  a  new  realm  called  thought. 
A  beautiful,  grand,  magnificent  world  which  has  long 
been  as  unknown  to  me  as  the  Milky  Way,  which  is 
composed,  I  am  told,  of  millions  of  stars.  I  seem  to  be 
climbing  up  the  mountain  of  science  out  of  the  night  and 
the  fog;  but  day  breaks,  and  the  fog  vanishes.  With 
every  step  my  horizon  becomes  brighter  and  broader. 
With  every  step  I  breathe  more  freely.  I  gaze  at  the 
sun,  it  forces  me  to  lower  my  eyes;  but  already  the 
clouds  are  under  my  feet.  Cursed  clouds !  On  earth 
you  hinder  me  from  seeing  heaven ;  in  heaven  you  hinder 
my  sight  of  the  earth. 

Why  is  it  that  these  simple  questions,  why  and  how^ 
never  before  presented  themselves  to  my  mindt  The 
entire  universe,  with  all  it  contains  of  good  and  ill,  is 
reflected  in  my  soul  as  in  a  sea  or  mirror ;  yet  my  soul 
knows  no  more  about  it  than  the  mirror.  Indeed,  I 
remember  many  things ;  but  what  good  does  it  do  me  t 
The  falcon  does  not  know  why  the  hood  is  placed  over 
his  eyes;  the  horse  does  not  understand  why  he  is  shod. 
Neither  do  I  understand  why  there  are  mountains  here 

>  These  fragments  were  found  in  the  room  occnpied  by  Amma> 
lat  Beg  at  Colonel  Verkovsky's  quartcra. 


SULTANETTA.  257 

and  steppes  there;  here  eternal  snows,  there  oceans  of 
burning  sand.  What  need  have  we  of  tempests  and 
earthquakes  ?  And  as  for  you,  man,  the  most  curious  of 
the  creatures  issuing  from  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  I  had 
never  thought  of  following  your  mysterious  course  from 
the  cradle  to  the  tomb.  I  confess  that  until  now  I  have 
regarded  books  and  life  in  the  same  light,  —  books  without 
comprehending  their  import,  life  without  comprehending 
its  aim.  But  Verkovsky  has  lifted  the  bandage  from  my 
eyes,  cleared  the  fog  from  my  brain;  he  gives  me  the 
opportunity  of  knowing  and  learning ;  with  him  I  try  my 
newly  fledged  wings,  like  the  young  swallow  with  its 
mother.  Distance  and  height  make  me  wonder  still,  but 
they  do  not  frighten  me.  The  time  will  come  when  I  shall 
soar  like  the  eagle  through  heaven's  brilliant  azure. 

And  yet,  am  I  the  happier  since  Verkovsky  and  his 
lessons  have  taught  me  to  think? 

Formerly,  a  horse,  a  sword,  a  gun  afforded  me  a  child- 
like joy,  and  now  that  I  recognize  the  superiority  of 
mind  over  matter,  I  no  longer  desire  the  things  that  were 
formerly  my  ambitions.  Once  I  regarded  myself  seri- 
ously ;  once  I  thought  myself  a  great  man ;  now  I  am  at 
least  convinced  of  one  thing,  that  I  am  nothing.  I  saw 
nothing  back  of  my  ancestors ;  all  that  had  gone  before 
was  veiled  in  obscurity.  It  was  dense  night,  peopled 
with  heroes  borrowed  from  tales  and  legends.  The 
Caucasus  was  my  horizon;  but,  at  least,  I  slept  tran- 
quilly through  that  night.  I  hoped  one  day  to  become 
celebrated  throughout  Daghestan:  I  had  chosen  the 
mountains  for  the  pedestal  of  my  statue,  and,  behold ! 
growing  wiser,  I  learn  from  books  that  long  before  my 
day  history  had  peopled  my  chosen  stage  with  nations 
struggling  for  glory,  with  heroes  whose  names  have  re- 
sounded to  the  echoes  of  Daghestan  and  the  entire  world, 

17 


258  SULTANETTA. 

and  that  I,  forsooth,  was  ignorant  of  the  very  names  of 
these  nations,  was  unaware  that  such  heroes  had  been  in 
existence.  What  has  become  of  those  nations  t  What 
became  of  those  heroes  lost  in  the  niglit  of  Time,  for- 
gotten in  the  dust  of  ageu?  I  thought  that  the  earth 
belonged  to  the  Tartars,  and  lo!  from  a  glance  at  a 
simple  geographical  chart,  I  learn  that  they  occupy  a 
very  small  portion  of  a  very  small  world ;  that  they  are 
poor  barbarians  compared  with  the  European  world ;  that 
no  one  thinks  of  them,  that  no  one  knows  anything  of 
them,  that  no  one  wishes  to  know  anything  of  them. 
No !  all,  all  is  an  illusion !  Kings,  heroes,  great  men 
are  glittering  illusions;  that  is  all. 

By  Mahomet!  it  was  well  worth  while  to  wear  out 
one's  brain  to  arrive  at  such  a  truth  ! 

What  is  the  good  of  understanding  the  forces  of  nature 
and  the  laws  by  which  she  is  governed,  when  my  own 
powers  are  helpless  to  govern  my  soul  f  I  can  rule  the 
sea,  and  I  cannot  curb  my  own  tears.  I  can  divert  the 
thimderbolt  from  my  roof,  and  1  cannot  keep  sorrow  out 
of  my  soul.  I  was  unhappy  before,  when  I  liad  but  my 
moods  to  torment  my  soul;  and  now,  as  if  my  moods 
were  not  sufficient,  here  are  difficulties  preying  upon  me 
as  my  falcons  prey  upon  the  poor  birds  that  I  begin  to 
pity,  —  a  thing  which  I  had  never  thought  of  doing  before. 
The  sick  man  gains  very  little  from  learning  his  malady, 
when  on  learning  it  he  at  the  same  time  finds  out  that  it  is 
incurable.     My  sufferings  are  doubled  by  analyzing  them. 

But  no,  I  am  unjust.  Beading  shortens  the  long 
hours  of  separation  that  seem  to  me  like  winter  nights ; 
and  in  gaining  the  ability  to  write  my  thoughts,  to  fix 
the  phantoms  of  my  imagination  on  paper,  I  gain  in 
stoutness  of  heart. 

Of  heart  or  pride,  I  know  not  which. 


SULTANETTA.  259 

Nay,  of  heart;  for,  some  day,  when  I  see  Sultanetta 
again,  I  will  show  her  these  pages  in  which  her  name 
occurs  more  frequently  than  Allah's  in  the  Koran. 
"  These  are  the  memories  of  my  heart, "  I  will  say ; 
"look:  on  such  a  day  I  thought  of  you  like  that;  on 
such  a  night  I  dreamed  that  dream  of  you.  From  these 
lines  you  can  count  my  tears;  from  these  words,  my 
sighs."  Perhaps  we  shall  laugh  together  over  these  days 
in  which  I  have  suffered  so  much;  but  can  I  think  of 
the  past  when  beside  you,  my  darling  Sultanetta?  No, 
all  will  be  blotted  out  before  me  and  around  me,  and 
naught  of  space  will  be  illumined  save  the  spot  on  which 
falls  the  ray  from  your  eyes.  By  that  liglit  my  heart  will 
soften  in  my  breast.  To  forget  myself  near  you  is  sweeter 
far  than  to  make  the  whole  world  resound  with  my  name. 

You  see  plainly  that  it  is  not  pride. 

I  read  tales  of  love,  portrayals  of  the  passions  of  men 
and  women :  in  the  first  place,  not  one  of  these  heroines 
of  romance  is  so  beautiful  in  body,  mind,  or  heart  as  my 
Sultanetta,  and,  as  for  me,  I  bear  no  moral  resemblance 
to  the  men  whose  story  I  read.  I  envy  their  wit,  their 
science,  their  amiability,  but  not  their  love.  Their 
warmest  love  is  sluggish  and  cold;  it  is  like  a  ray  of 
moonlight  shimmering  on  the  ice.  No,  I  cannot  think 
that  men  really  love,  whose  love  is  manifested  thus. 

There  is  one  thing,  dear,  which  I  must  confess:  in  vain 
I  ask  myself  what  friendship  is.  I  cannot  answer.  I 
have  a  friend  in  Verkovsky,  a  true,  sincere,  kind  friend. 
Well,  he  is  my  friend;  I  feel  that  I  cannot  respond  as 
he  deserves,  and  I  blame  myself  for  it ;  but  it  is  not  in  my 
power  to  do  otherwise.  In  my  soul  there  is  no  room  for 
any  but  Sultanetta;  in  my  heart,  no  feeling  other  than 
love. 

No,  I  will  read  no  more  ;  I  understand  nothing  it  says 


260  8ULTANBTTA. 

to  me.  Decidedly,  I  am  not  made  to  climb  t)ie  ladder  of 
science.  I  catch  my  breath  at  the  first  round,  I  am  lost 
in  simple  difficulties,  I  tangle  the  thread  instead  of 
unwinding  it.  I  pull  and  break  it.  I  have  taken  the 
colonel's  encouragement  for  progresa  But  what  hinders 
my  progress  ?  Alas !  it  is  what  makes  my  life's  happi- 
ness and  unhappiness,  —  love.  In  everything,  everywhere, 
I  see  and  hear  Sultanetta,  and  often  I  see  and  hear  noth- 
ing else.  To  forget  her  a  single  instant  would  seem  a 
crime.  I  should  as  soon  wish  to  still  the  beatings  of  my 
heart.  Can  I  live  witliout  air  ?  Sultanetta  is  my  light, 
my  air,  my  life,  my  soul ! 

My  hand  trembles,  my  heart  beats.  Were  I  to  write 
with  my  blood,  it  would  bum  the  paper.  Sultanetta,  do 
you  know  that  you  are  killing  me  ?  Your  image  follows 
me  everywhere.  The  remembrance  of  your  lieauty  is 
more  dangerous  to  me  than  your  beauty  itself.  The 
thought  that  the  treasure  of  love  which  I  have  held  in 
my  arms  is  forever  lost  to  me  drowns  me  in  despair, 
goads  me  to  madness.  My  mind  is  giving  way,  my 
heart  is  breaking.  I  remember  every  feature  of  your 
face,  every  change  of  your  expression,  every  movement 
of  your  arm,  every  curve  of  your  bust,  and  your  foot, 
that  seal  of  love,  and  your  lips,  like  ripe  pomegranate, 
and  your  shoulders,  mine  of  marble !  Oh !  The  memory 
alone  of  your  voice  shakes  me  to  the  soul,  like  the  string 
of  an  instrument  near  breaking.  And  in  the  night  time 
your  kiss,  the  kiss  from  which  I  seem  to  drink  the 
springs  of  life,  falls  again  upon  me  like  dew  of  fire.  Oh ! 
yet  one  kiss  like  that  in  the  chapel,  a  single  one,  Sulta- 
netta, and  then,  come  death  ! 

Colonel  Verkovsky  had,  as  we  have  seen,  observed 
Ammalat's  sadness,  and,  too,  he  bad  divined  its  cause. 


SULTANETTA.  261 

Hoping  to  divert  him,  he  organized  a  boar-hunt,  a 
favorite  pastime  of  the  begs  of  Daghestan. 

At  the  colonel's  invitation,  twenty  begs  arrived,  at- 
tended by  their  noukars,  each  disposed  to  do  his  best. 

December  was  beginning  to  cover  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  of  Daghestan  with  snow.  The  swelling  Cas- 
pian, unnavigable  during  the  winter,  was  storming  the 
walls  of  the  City  of  the  Iron  Gates.  Through  the  fog 
whizzed  the  wings  of  bustards ;  all  was  gloomy  and  dull. 
The  misting  rain  falling  every  evening  seemed  like  the 
tears  of  the  weather  itself,  lamenting  finer  days.  Old 
Tartars,  enveloped  to  their  noses  in  pelisses  and  bourkas, 
were  standing  about  the  markets. 

But  such  dull  days  are  fine  days  for  hunters. 

The  sun  had  barely  risen  from  the  other  side  of  the 
sea,  the  mullahs  had  scarcely  called  to  prayer,  when  the 
colonel  and  his  guests,  Ammalat  included,  gathered  at 
the  north  gate  of  Derbend,  after  literally  wading  through 
the  mud. 

The  route  they  took  is  sorry  enough  to  the  eye ;  it  is 
the  one  leading  to  Tarki ;  here  and  there  lie  a  few  fields 
of  madder,  then  come  vast  Tartar  cemeteries  in  which 
the  graves  are  so  crowded  that  they  look  like  a  forest  of 
stakes ;  there  are  a  few  scattered  vineyards ;  and  beyond 
all  lies  the  sea,  which,  at  that  season  of  the  year,  instead 
of  holding  a  shining  mirror  to  the  sky,  looked  like  a  vast 
basin  from  which  a  constant  fog  arose.  On  both  sides  of 
the  road  enormous  boulders,  loosened  from  their  bases  by 
the  violence  of  torrents,  had  rolled  down  and  remained 
there  in  a  litter,  showing  the  unconcern  of  men  for  the 
cataclysms  of  Nature. 

The  huntsmen  were  at  their  posts. 

On  arriving,  the  colonel  sounded  three  shrill,  prolonged 
blasts  from  his  silver-hooped  hunting-horn,  to  which  the 


262  8ULTANETTA. 

huntsmen  replied  with  a  shout  indicating  that  they  were 
ready. 

The  hunters  took  their  positions  in  line,  some  on 
horses,  some  on  foot,  and  the  battue  began. 

Boars  were  soon  started,  and  the  crackling  of  the  first 
shots  was  heard. 

The  forests  of  Daghestan  abound  in  these  animals; 
and  although  the  Tartars,  considering  them  unclean, 
hold  it  a  sin  even  to  touch  them,  they  arc  regarded 
as  grand  game  for  the  chase.  It  is  a  good  school  of 
practice  for  both  shooting  and  courage,  as  the  speed 
of  the  wild  boar  is  remarkably  swift,  and  when  wounded 
the  mountain  boar  especially  almost  always  turns  upon 
the  hunter. 

The  line  of  hunters  comprising  thirty  shots  extended 
over  a  very  wide  space.  The  boldest  of  the  sportsmen, 
or  those  surest  of  their  aim,  chose  the  most  isolated  spots 
in  order  to  share  with  none  tlie  glory  of  victory. 

Colonel  Verkovsky,  relying  on  his  own  courage  and 
skill,  took  one  of  these  posts,  deep  in  the  forest  and 
entirely  isolated.  Leaning  against  an  oak-tree,  in  the 
centre  of  a  sort  of  clearing  which  allowed  the  hunter, 
and  likewise  the  boar,  perfect  freedom  of  movement,  he 
awaited  the  event,  which,  in  this  country  where  the  ani- 
mal remains  as  wild  as  nature  and  man,  is  almost  always 
a  hand-to-hand  struggle.  Shots  were  heard  to  right  and 
left;  sometimes  through  copses  and  brushwood,  the 
colonel  could  distinguish  a  boar  passing  like  a  flash.  At 
last,  he  heard  a  great  crackling  of  breaking  bushes,  and 
■aw  an  enormous  old  boar  heading  straiglit  for  him. 

The  colonel  fired,  but  the  ball  glanced  from  the  ani- 
mal's  bony  skull  and  wedge-shaped  head.  Yet,  stunned 
for  a  moment  by  the  violence  of  the  shock,  the  boar 
stood  trembling  in  every  limb  without  moving  backward 


SULTANETTA.  263 

or  forward.  The  colonel,  supposing  him  to  be  more 
injured  than  he  was,  left  his  cover  and  started  toward 
him.  Then  the  animal,  not  knowing  before  whence  the 
blow  had  come,  recognized  his  enemy,  and  with  bristles 
erect  and  gnashing  teeth  he  made  for  the  colonel. 

Verkovsky  had  a  second  shot;  he  waited. 

At  four  paces,  he  pulled  the  trigger ;  only  the  priming 
smoked. 

What  then  happened  took  place  as  swift  as  thought. 

He  experienced  a  violent  shock  that  felled  him  to  the 
earth;  but,  with  the  admirable  coolness  born  of  tried 
courage,  he  drew  his  kandjiar  as  he  fell. 

It  was  one  of  the  best  blades  of  Daghestan. 

The  boar  spitted  himself  upon  it,  but  the  force  of  his 
onset  wrenched  the  weapon  from  the  colonel's  hands. 

The  brute  had  received  a  terrible  wound;  yet,  from 
the  blood  in  his  eye  and  his  foaming  mouth,  the  colonel 
could  see  that  he  was  still  full  of  fight. 

Prostrate,  disarmed,  conscious  from  a  pain  in  his  thigh 
that  he  was  already  wounded,  the  colonel  gave  himself 
up  for  lost. 

"  Help,  comrades !  "  he  cried,  without  hoping  to  be 
heard. 

Besides,  should  they  hear,  were  they  within  a  hundred 
paces,  they  could  not  reach  him  in  time  to  help. 

Suddenly  the  gallop  of  a  horse  was  heard:  a  hunter 
was  on  the  track  of  the  boar  which  he  seemed  to  be 
pursuing. 

A  shot  echoed;  the  colonel  heard  a  shrill  whizzing, 
followed  by  the  deadened  sound  of  the  ball  striking  a 
soft  body. 

At  the  same  instant  he  felt  as  if  a  mountain  had  been 
lifted  from  his  breast. 

The  boar  was  leaving  him  for  a  new  enemy. 


264  8ULTANETTA. 

Verkovsky  rose  to  his  elbow;  a  mist  was  before  his 
eyes.  Yet  through  the  mist  he  saw  a  horseman  who, 
instead  of  fleeing  from  the  boar  or  simply  awaiting  him, 
jumped  from  his  horse. 

Man  and  beast  rushed  upon  each  other  and  rolled 
together  on  the  ground. 

There  was  a  brief  space  during  which  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  a  painter  to  have  given  any  form  to 
this  monstrous  group. 

Yet  it  seemed  to  the  colonel  that  the  man  continued 
to  strike  after  the  animal  was  already  dead. 

At  length  the  infuriated  slayer  stood  up,  covered  vrith 
blood  and  froth  and  mire. 

It  was  Ammalat  Beg. 

The  boar's  head  lay  beside  the  body,  completely  sev- 
ered from  it. 

The  colonel  arose,  and  with  open  arms,  although  his 
blood  was  issuing  from  two  wounds,  he  ran  gratefully 
toward  the  young  man. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  said  Ammalat  Beg,  spuming  the 
boar's  head  and  stamping  it  with  the  iron  heel  of  his 
boot ;  "  I  am  taking  revenge.  Ah !  accursed !  ah !  un- 
clean !  "  continued  the  youth,  trampling  the  animal  under 
foot,  as  if  it  could  still  hear  and  feel.  "  It  is  not  all  for 
killing  my  friend  the  beg  of  Tavannant.  Instead  of 
turning  round,  you  coward !  instead  of  attacking  me,  who 
killed  your  father  and  stabbed  your  mother,  you  contin- 
ued your  course  to  gore  my  benefactor,  the  man  to  whom 
I  owe  my  life.     All !  accursed  !  ah  !  unclean  !  ** 

**  You  owe  me  nothing  now,  Ammalat,  and  we  are 
quite, "  said  the  colonel ;  "  and,  accursed  and  unclean  as  he 
is,  I  trust  indeed  that  we  shall  be  avenged  by  giving 
him  tit  for  tat.  We  will  inflict  the  Tartar  puiiishnient 
on  him,  Ammalat  Beg,  —  retaliation.     He  has  attacked  us 


SULTANETTA.  265 

with  his  teeth ;  we  will  eat  him  with  ours.  I  hope  that 
you  will  lay  aside  your  prejudices  in  this  instance, 
Ammalat,  and  eat  your  share  of  him." 

"  I  would  eat  my  share  of  a  man,  had  he  killed  my 
friend,"  responded  the  savage  hunter;  "and  the  flesh 
of  an  animal  with  far  greater  excuse,  were  its  flesh  ten 
times  forbidden !  " 

"And,  to  wash  down  this  forbidden  flesh,  we  will 
sprinkle  him  with  forbidden  liquor." 

"Whatever  you  like,  colonel;  it  is  just  as  well  to 
sprinkle  my  burning  heart  with  wine  as  with  holy  water, 
since  the  holy  water  does  it  no  good. " 

Then,  pressing  both  hands  upon  his  breast  as  if  to 
still  his  heart,  he  gave  a  deep  moan. 

The  hunt  was  ended,  —  that  part  of  it  at  least. 

They  heard  the  notes  of  the  recheat.  The  colonel 
sounded  three  blasts  from  his  horn;  a  moment  later, 
hunters  and  huntsmen  were  surrounding  him. 

In  few  words  the  colonel  told  what  had  happened; 
then,  pointing  to  the  boar  with  its  head  severed  from  the 
body,  he  said,  turning  to  the  young  man,  — 

"  It  was  a  fine  stroke,  Ammalat,  a  brave  stroke  !  " 

"  It  is  an  Asiatic's  revenge.  An  Asiatic's  revenge  is 
deadly!" 

"Friend,"  said  the  colonel,  "you  have  seen  a  Kus- 
sian's  revenge,  a  Christian's;  let  that  be  a  lesson  to 
you." 

And  both  returned  to  the  camp. 

Ammalat  Beg  was  distrait.  Sometimes  he  gave  no 
answer  to  Verkovsky's  questions,  sometimes  he  answered 
quite  wide  of  the  mark.  He  went  along  by  his  side, 
peering  about  in  all  directions  as  if  he  were  expecting 
some  one,  and  not  even  thinking  to  ask  the  colonel  if  bis 
wounds  were  painful. 


266  8ULTANETTA. 

Supposing  that  Ammalat,  like  a  fearless  hunter,  was 
dreaming  of  the  chase,  and  being  in  a  hurry,  moreover,  to 
return  and  submit  his  leg  and  thigh  to  the  surgeon's  care, 
Verkovsky  set  off  at  a  gallop  and  left  Ammalat  to  his 
reveries. 

The  young  man  allowed  him  to  get  beyond  the  hill, 
and  then,  thinking  himself  to  be  alone,  he  rose  in  his 
stirrups  and  looked  in  all  directions. 

Suddenly  a  horseman  sprang  up  from  the  bottom  of  a 
ravine,  with  clothes  all  torn  by  the  thorny  shrub  grow- 
ing everywhere  on  the  slopes  of  the  Caucasus. 

The  rider  made  straight  for  Ammalat  Beg. 

One  cry  issued  from  both  throats,  — 

**  Aleikoum  salaam  !  " 

And  both,  leaping  from  their  horses,  threw  themselves 
into  each  other's  arms. 

"So  you  are  here,  Nephtali!"  cried  Ammalat  B^; 
"  you  have  seen  her,  you  have  spoken  to  her.  Oh  I  I  see 
by  your  face  that  you  bring  good  news. " 

He  quickly  took  off  his  jacket,  all  embroidered  with 
gold,  and  presented  it  to  Nephtali,  saying,  — 

"Stay,  accept  this,  herald  of  good  tidings.*  Is  she 
alive  1  is  she  well  t  does  she  love  me  still  ?  " 

"  In  the  name  of  Mahomet,  let  me  get  my  breath, " 
said  Nephtali.  "  You  ask  me  so  many  questions,  and  I 
in  turn  have  so  many  tilings  to  say,  that  they  crowd  each 
other  like  the  women  in  the  door  of  the  mosque  when 
their  slippers  are  lost. " 

"  Well,  tell  everything  in  its  place.  You  received  my 
letter?" 

*  It  U  a  Tartar  cnstom  to  make  a  present,  almost  always  giving 
a  garment,  to  the  bringer  of  g<x>d  news.  In  this  way  I  received 
the  nichaiA.  fur  having  announced  to  the  bey  of  Tunis  his  cousin's 
arriral  at  Marseilles. — A.  D. 


SULTANETTA.  267 

"  You  can  see  for  yourself,  since  I  am  here.  I  received 
your  letter,  and  by  your  desire  betook  myself  to  Khun- 
sack.  I  went  there  so  quietly  and  silently  that  I  awoke 
not  so  much  as  a  bird  on  my  way.  Ackraeth  Khan  is 
well;  he  is  at  home.  He  inquired  anxiously  about  you, 
shook  his  head,  and  asked :  '  Does  n't  he  need  a  spindle 
for  winding  off  the  Derbend  silk  1 '  The  khan's  wife, 
who  already  looks  upon  you  as  her  son-in-law, "  —  Amma- 
lat  sighed  and  turned  his  eyes  heavenward,  —  "  sends 
you  a  thousand  compliments  and  as  many  little  pies. 
I  bring  you  the  compliments,  but  I  have  thrown  away 
the  little  pies,  which  the  gait  of  my  horse  had  beaten 
into  pulp." 

"  May  the  devil  eat  them !     And  —  and  Sultanetta  ?  " 

"  Sultanetta,  dear  brother, "  said  Nephtali,  sighing  in 
turn,  "  Sultanetta  is  as  beautiful  as  the  starry  sky.  Only, 
her  sky,  clouded  over  and  gloomy  at  first,  became  azure 
when  I  spoke  your  name,  when  I  said  that  I  came  from 
you.  She  nearly  fell  upon  my  neck ;  I  emptied  her  out 
a  whole  sack  of  love  from  you.  I  swore  that  you  were 
dying  of  love  for  her. " 

"  And  what  did  she  answer  1 " 

"  Nothing.     She  fell  to  weeping. " 

"  Dear  heart !  dear  heart !  and  what  message  did  she 
send  me  ?  " 

"  Ask  rather  what  message  she  did  not  send  and  I 
shall  have  done  sooner.  She  told  me  to  say  that  since 
your  going  away  she  has  not  been  happy  even  in  a 
dream ;  that  her  heart  lies  buried  under  the  snow  which 
only  your  presence,  like  the  sun  in  May,  can  melt.  If  I 
had  waited  for  her  to  finish  telling  me  all  that  I  was  to 
say,  and  to  express  all  her  wishes,  we  should  not  have 
met  again,  my  dear  Ammalat,  till  we  were  gray-headed; 
and  yet  she  almost  chased  me  away  because  she  thought 


268  8ULTANETTA. 

I  was  not  hurrying  fast  enough,  and  she  wished  yon  to 
know  immediately  of  all  her  suflferings." 

"  Lovely  being !  "  addressing  himself  to  Sultanetta  as 
if  she  could  have  heard  him.  "  Oh,  you  will  never  know 
what  happiness  it  is  for  me  to  be  near  you,  what  martyr- 
dom not  to  see  you  !  " 

"  Eh,  by  Allah !  It  seems  as  if  I  were  listening  to 
her,  for  she  said  exactly  the  same  thing,  Ammalat.  '  Oh, 
let  him  only  return,'  she  sobbed,  'were  it  but  for  one 
day,  one  hour,  one  moment ! '  " 

"  Oh,  let  me  see  her,  let  me  see  her,  and  die!  " 

"No,  Ammalat,  you  must  see  her  and  live.  Never 
does  a  man  so  desire  to  live  as  when  gazing  at  her.  A 
single  look  from  her  doubles  the  circulation." 

"  Did  you  tell  her  why  I  cannot  carry  out  the  dearest 
of  all  my  wishes  ? " 

"  I  told  her  so  many  things  that  if  you  could  have 
heard  them  you  would  have  taken  me  for  the  poet  of  the 
Shah  of  Persia.  She  wept  her  eyes  out  over  them,  poor 
child!  " 

"  You  need  not  have  driven  her  to  despair,  Nephtali; 
perhaps  what  cannot  be  done  now  may  bo  done  later.  To 
banish  hope  from  a  woman's  heart  is  to  banish  love.  A 
woman  without  hope  does  not  love  long. " 

"  You  are  wasting  your  breath,  Ammalat ;  on  the  con- 
trary, hope,  among  lovers,  is  an  endless  ball  of  yam. 
They  hardly  believe  in  estrangement  when  they  see  it. 
If  they  love  you,  they  believe  in  everything,  even  in 
ghosts!  Listen,  Sultanetta  is  positive  that  were  you 
even  in  the  grave  you  would  come  out  of  it  to  see  her." 

"The  grave  and  Derbend  are  the  same  thing  to 
me,  Nephtali;  my  body  is  at  Derbend,  my  soul  at 
Khunsack. " 

**  And  your  mind,  where   is   that,    Ammalat  T     It  is 


SULTANETTA.  2G9 

running  at  large,  it  seems  to  me.  Are  you  so  "badly  oflf 
with  the  colonel,  for  a  man  who  six  months  ago  was  to 
have  heen  hanged  ?  No.  You  are  free,  you  are  amused, 
loved  like  a  brother,  treated  like  a  betrothed.  Sulta- 
netta  is  beautiful,  I  know  very  well ;  but  Verkovsky  is 
good,  and  you  can  well  sacrifice  to  friendship  a  small 
part  of  love." 

"  And  what  else  am  I  doing,  Nephtali  ?  If  you  only 
knew  what  it  costs  me  !  It  seems  to  me  that  what  I  give 
Verkovsky  is  a  piece  torn  from  my  heart.  Friendship 
is  a  fine  thing,  but  it  does  not  take  the  place  of  love. 
Nephtali." 

Nephtali  sighed. 

"  Have  you  spoken  of  Sultanetta  to  the  colonel  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  have  never  dared,  although  a  hundred  times  I  have 
wished  to  speak;  but  the  words  stop  at  my  lips.  As 
soon  as  I  open  my  mouth  the  name  of  Sultanetta  seems 
to  block  the  passage.  He  is  so  wise  that  I  am  afraid  of 
wearying  him  with  my  folly.  He  is  so  kind  that  I  fear 
to  tire  his  patience.  Imagine,  Nephtali,  he  is  in  love 
with  a  woman  with  whom  he  was  raised.  He  was  to 
have  married  her;  but,  in  1814,  during  the  war  with 
France,  he  was  thought  to  have  been  killed.  The  woman, 
who  had  already  struggled  for  three  years  to  keep  her 
heart  for  Verkovsky,  believing  that  he  was  dead,  yielded 
at  last,  and  married  another  man.  In  1815  he  returned. 
His  Marianne  was  married.  What  do  you  think  I  would 
have  done  in  his  place  ?  I  would  have  buried  my  kand- 
jiar  in  the  perjurer's  heart.  I  would  have  carried  her  oli 
to  possess  her,  were  it  only  for  an  hour.  No;  he  knew 
his  rival  to  be  an  honorable  man,  as  they  say ;  he  was  cold- 
blooded enough  to  remain  his  friend,  and  saw  his  former 
promised  bride  without  stabbing  both  of  them." 


270  SULTAN  ETTA. 

"  A  rare  man, "  said  Nephtali ;  "  he  must  be  a  ime 
friend." 

"  Yes,  but  what  a  frozen  lover  I  Forbearing  as  he 
was,  the  husband  was  jealous.  What  did  Verkovsky  do  t 
He  went  into  service  in  the  Caucasus.  Fortunately  or 
unfortunately,  the  husband  died.  Ah!  now  he  would 
saddle  his  horse,  you  would  think,  get  on  his  back  and 
start.  No.  The  governor  tells  him  that  his  presence  is 
necessary  here,  and  he  remains  —  not  for  eight  days,  or 
a  month,  or  three  months,  but  for  a  year,  a  century,  an 
eternity  I  As  for  his  love,  he  feeds  it  with  paper  every 
eight  days,  when  the  post  comes.  No,  you  can  see, 
Nephtali,  such  a  man,  however  good  he  may  be,  would 
not  understand  my  love.  There  is  too  great  a  difference 
between  our  ages  and  especially  our  ideas.  All  that 
chills  my  friendship  and  keeps  me  from  being  open. " 

"  Strange  man  that  you  are !  "  said  Nephtali,  with  a 
degree  of  sadness.  "  You  do  not  love  Verkovsky,  al- 
though, of  right,  he  deserves  your  love  and  respect  more 
than  any  other." 

"  Who  has  told  you  that  I  do  not  love  him  ?  "  cried 
Ammalat,  with  almost  a  shudder.  "  No,  no,  on  the  con- 
trary, I  must  love  him  as  my  benefactor,  as  the  man  who 
saved  my  life.  Oh  !  I  love  everybody  since  knowing 
Sultanetta.  I  would  like  to  cover  the  earth  with  flowers, 
to  make  the  universe  one  great  garden. " 

"  To  love  everybody  is  to  love  nobody,  Ammalat. " 

"  You  are  wrong,  Nephtali.  The  universe  might 
drink  from  my  cup  of  love,  and  my  cup  would  still  be 
full,"  said  Ammalat,  smiling. 

"  That  is  what  comes  of  seeing  a  beautiful  girl  without 
her  veil,  and  never  afterwards  seeing  anything  but  veils 
and  eyebrows.  Like  a  nightingale  of  the  Valley  of 
Aourm^s,  you  need  a  cage  to  make  you  sing. " 


SULTANETTA.  271 

**  What  is  the  Valley  of  Aourmes  like  1 "  asked  Amma- 
lat  Beg. 

"In  the  spring  it  is  the  realm  of  roses;  in  autumn, 
the  realm  of  raisins, "  replied  Nephtali. 

And,  as  a  body  of  belated  hunters  was  advancing 
toward  them,  the  two  friends  turned  their  horses  and 
plunged  into  the  depths  of  the  wood. 


272  SULTANETTA. 


Colonel  Vebkovsky  to  his  fianc^:  — 

Derbemd,  April,  1820. 

Come,  dear  Marie,  heart  of  my  heart!  come  and  ad- 
mire with  me  a  beautiful  night  in  Daghestan.  Der- 
bend,  like  dark-colored  lava  rock  fallen  from  the  crest  of 
the  Caucasus,  lies  peacefully  on  a  bed  of  flowers;  the 
wind  wafts  me  the  breath  of  the  almond-trees ;  a  nightin- 
gale is  singing  in  the  thicket  behind  the  fortress.  All 
things  seem  springing  into  life,  all  breathe  of  love. 
Nature,  blushing  like  a  modest  bride,  hides  in  a  misty 
veiL  The  ocean  of  mist  works  wonders  with  the  Cas- 
pian. Below,  the  sea  heaves  like  an  embossed  cuirass 
rising  with  the  breath  of  a  mighty  breast.  Above,  the 
fog  rolls  in  silvery  billows  lighted  by  the  fxdl  moon  which 
is  swinging  in  heaven  like  a  golden  lamp  round  which 
gleam  the  stars,  diamonds  strewn  on  the  azure.  Then 
too,  every  moment,  the  moon's  fickle  beams  change  the 
aspect  —  I  will  not  say  of  the  landscape :  limitless  fogs 
and  a  boundless  sea  do  not  constitute  a  landscape  —  of 
the  horizon,  which  one  might  fancy  to  be  the  threshold 
of  the  kingdom  of  phantoms,  tlie  empire  of  dreams. 

You  cannot  imagine,  dear  love,  the  sad  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  sweet  emotions  inspired  in  me  by  the  sight 
and  sound  of  the  sea.  My  thoughts  at  once  dwell  upon 
the  immortality  of  our  souls,  of  the  infinity  of  our  love. 
Love  fills  me  and  envelops  me.  It  is  the  only  great  and 
immortal  sentiment  that  man  can  have.     It  is  his  ocean. 


SULTANETTA.  273 

In  the  winter  of  sadness,  its  flame  keeps  me  warm,  its 
light  is  my  guide  through  the  night  of  doubt ;  I  love  then 
without  weeping,  and  have  faith  in  everything.  You 
smile  at  my  fancy,  sister  of  my  soul ;  you  wonder  at  this 
melancholy  strain.  Ah !  well,  to  whom  should  I  tell  my 
thoughts,  if  not  to  you  ?  You  know  that  I  am  a  sort  of 
lantern,  and  the  flame  burning  in  my  heart  outlines  all 
my  emotions  on  my  face,  and,  as  you  will  read  me  witli 
your  heart  and  not  your  mind,  I  am  not  disturbed.  In 
any  case,  if  any  points  in  my  letters  seem  obscure,  your 
happy  fianc6  will  explain  them  to  you  in  the  month  of 
August  next.  I  cannot  think  without  delirium  of  the 
moment  when  I  shall  see  you  again ;  I  count  the  hours 
that  separate  us,  I  count  the  versts  between.  Thus,  in 
June  you  will  visit  the  springs  of  the  Caucasus,  and  then 
only  a  few  icy  peaks  of  the  granite  chain  will  be  between 
us.  How  many  years  of  my  life  would  I  give  to 
hasten  the  happy  hour  of  our  meeting !  Our  souls  have 
so  long  been  affianced!  Why  then  have  they  been 
separated  until  now? 

Our  Ammalat  is  always  reticent  with  me.  I  do  not 
blame  him;  I  know  how  difficult  it  is,  how  impossible 
even,  to  change  customs  absorbed  with  the  mother's 
milk  and  the  air  of  one's  native  land.  Persia's  despotism 
has  imbued  the  soul  of  the  Caucasian  Tartars  with  the 
basest  passions,  has  filled  their  hearts  with  the  most 
cowardly  deceitfulness.  Could  it  be  otherwise  in  a  gov- 
ernment based  upon  the  exchange  of  a  great  despotism 
for  a  petty  one,  in  which  even  a  just  trial  is  a  rare  thing, 
in  which  power  is  nothing  but  the  right  to  commit  rol> 
bery  without  chastisement? 

"  Master,  do  with  me  what  you  will ;  but  allow  me  to 
do  as  I  will  with  my  inferiors." 

That  is  the  whole  sum  of  the  Asiatic  rule. 
18 


274  SULTANETTA. 

Hence  it  follows  that  every  man,  finding  hiniBclf 
between  two  enemies,  the  one  who  is  oppressing  him  and 
the  one  whom  he  is  oppressing,  is  accustomed  to  conceal 
his  thoughts  as  he  conceals  his  money.  Hence  every 
man  dissembles  before  the  powerful  to  obtain  power, 
Iwfore  the  rich  to  obtain  the  price  of  persecution  or  de- 
nunciation. Hence,  in  short,  the  Tartar  of  Daghestan 
will  not  utter  a  word,  will  not  take  a  step,  will  not  give 
a  cucumber  without  the  hojie  of  a  gift  in  return.  Churl- 
ish with  whoever  has  neither  power  nor  wealth,  he 
cringes  before  power  and  crawls  before  wealth.  He  will 
lavish  caresses  on  you,  give  you  his  children,  his  house, 
or  his  soul,  in  order  to  keep  his  money;  and  if  he 
shows  you  any  civility  whatever,  rest  assured  that  the 
civility  covers  some  speculation.  In  business,  a  denier 
will  spoil  a  trade:  it  is  hard  to  conceive  the  extent  of 
their  love  for  gain.  Tlie  Armenians  have  a  viler,  more 
contemptible  character  than  they;  but  the  Tartars,  I 
think,  are  more  treacherous  and  greed}'.  Now,  it  is 
obvious  that  Ammalat,  with  such  examples  before  him 
from  his  infancy,  has  been  influenced  by  them,  although 
in  his  nobility  he  has  preserved  a  great  sc-orn  for  all  that 
is  base  and  unworthy;  but  nature  conferred  on  him  a 
dissembling  character  as  an  indispensable  weapon  against 
his  enemies,  open  or  secret.  The  ties  of  blootl,  so  sacred 
witli  us,  do  not  exist  among  the  Asiatics:  the  son  with 
them  is  the  father's  slave ;  brother  is  enemy  to  brother. 
They  place  no  confidence  in  their  neighbor  because  their 
religion  has  omitted  to  tell  them  to  love  their  neighbor  as 
themselves.  Jealousy,  inspired  by  wife  or  mistress, 
stifles  all  other  sentiments.  There  is  no  friendship 
among  them.  A  child  brought  up  by  an  enslaved 
mother,  ignorant  of  a  father's  caress,  choked  by  the 
Arabic  alphabet,  is  secretive  even  with  the  children  of  his 


SULTANETTA.  275 

own  age.  From  his  first  tooth,  he  goes  where  he  will ; 
at  the  first  hint  of  a  mustache,  all  doors,  all  hearts  are 
closed  to  him.  Husbands  regard  him  uneasily,  and  drive 
him  like  a  wild  beast;  and  the  first  heart-throb,  the  first 
impulse  of  his  nature  are  already  crimes  in  the  eye  of 
Mohammedanism.  He  must  let  nothing  of  what  passes 
within  him  be  seen  by  his  nearest  relative,  by  his  best 
friend.  If  he  weeps,  he  must  draw  his  bachlik  over  his 
eyes,  and  weep  in  silence  and  alone. 

I  tell  you  all  this,  dear  love,  that  you  may  not  con- 
demn Ammalat.  These  Asiatic  customs  are  so  at  vari- 
ance with  ours  that  they  need  to  be  explained  at  every 
turn.  Thus,  for  nearly  a  year  and  a  half  of  his  stay  with 
me,  I  did  not  know  the  name  of  the  woman  he  loves, 
although  he  well  understood  that  it  was  not  from  curi- 
osity that  I  sought  to  learn  the  secrets  of  his  heart. 

At  last,  one  day  he  told  me  all. 

This  is  how  it  came  about. 

We  were  taking  a  ride,  Ammalat  and  I,  outside  of  the 
town;  we  had  followed  the  mountain  road,  and,  advanc- 
ing farther  and  higher,  we  discovered  ourselves,  without 
having  realized  it,  near  the  village  of  Kemmek,  where 
the  famous  wall  passes  which  used  to  secure  Persia 
against  invasions  from  the  tribes  that  dwelt  on  the 
northern  steppes  of  the  Caucasus.  The  chronicles  of 
Derbend  have  it  that  this  wall  was  built  by  a  certain 
Isfendiar.  Hence  comes  the  tradition  attributing  the 
work  to  Alexander  the  Great,  who  never  came  so  far  as 
this.  In  all  probability,  it  was  Nushirvan  who  discov- 
ered it,  had  it  rebuilt,  and  stationed  sentinels  upon  it. 

Since  then,  it  has  been  repaired  several  times ;  finally, 
for  want  of  repairs,  it  has  fallen  into  the  state  in  which 
we  find  it  to-day.  The  wall  is  said  to  have  extended 
from  the  Caspian  Sea  to  the  Black  Sea  along  the  Cau- 


276  SULTANETTA. 

casus,  having  iron  gates  at  its  terminus  at  Dcrljcnd,  and 
iron  gates  were  at  its  centre  at  the  Pass  of  Dariel. 
Moreover,  traces  of  it  are  seen  in  the  mountains  as  far 
as  they  can  be  followed.  They  are  lost  sight  of  only 
over  precipices  and  gorges.  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  searches 
that  have  been  instituted  from  the  Black  Sea  to  Min- 
grelia,  no  trace  of  it  is  to  be  found.  I  looked  with 
interest  at  this  old  wall  flanked  by  watcli-towers,  and  I 
was  astonished  at  the  greatness  of  the  ancients,  even  in 
their  caprices, —  caprices  to  which  the  Orientals  of  to-day 
cannot  attain.  The  wonders  of  Babylon,  Lake  Moeris, 
the  pyramids  of  the  Pharaohs,  the  great  wall  of  China, — 
that  wall  Ciirried  through  the  wildest  regions,  over  the 
crests  of  the  highest  peaks,  across  the  deepest  gorges, — 
testify  to  the  giant  will  and  boundless  power  of  the 
ancient  kings.  Neither  time  nor  earthquakes  have  lieen 
able  to  destroy  the  work  of  man,  nor  the  feet  of  centuries 
to  stamp  out  the  remains  of  this  bold  antiquity. 

I  confess  that  tliis  sight  inspired  me  with  both  solemn 
thoughts  and  pride.  I  reviewed  the  work  of  Peter  the 
Great,  that  founder  of  a  new  empire.  I  pictured  him 
on  the  ruins  of  this  Asiatic  power,  mapping  Russia  from 
its  midst  with  his  powerful  hand,  and  adding  her  to 
Europe.  How  brilliant  must  have  been  the  lightnings 
of  his  eyes,  flashed  from  the  Caucasus!  What  thoughts 
teemed  in  his  brain!  What  inspiration  swelled  his 
breast!  The  protligious  future  of  his  country  stretched 
out  before  his  vision,  as  boundless  as  the  horizon.  In 
the  great  mirror  of  the  'Caspian  he  saw  reflected  the 
future  grandeur  of  liussia,  planted  by  him,  sprinkled 
with  the  dew  of  blood.  He  aimed,  not  to  achieve  foolish 
and  brutal  conquests,  as  these  barbarians  have  done,  but 
to  secure  the  happiness  of  human  kind.  Astraklian, 
Der1)end,  Baku,  all  are  links  of  the  chain  by  which  he 


SULTANETTA.  277 

wished  to  get  round  the  Caucasus,  thereby  joiniBg  the 
commerce  of  India  and  Russia. 

Oh,  Idol  of  the  North!  you  whom  nature  created  to 
flatter  man's  vanity  and  cause  him  at  the  same  time  to 
despair  of  ever  attaining  your  height,  your  giant  shade 
rises  before  me,  and  the  flood  of  years  is  dashed  into  spray 
at  your  feet ! 

Pensive  and  silent,  I  continued  my  way. 

This  Caucasian  Wall  extends  in  a  northerly  direction, 
and  is  built  with  square  blocks  of  hewn  stone,  fitted  in 
with  stones  that  are  narrower  and  consequently  longer 
than  wide.  It  is  what  the  Greeks  termed  the  Pelasgic 
structure.  At  many  points  the  battlements  still  remain ; 
but  acorns  have  fallen  into  interstices  and  germinated, 
and  the  slow  but  irresistible  levers  of  the  roots  have 
spread  the  stones,  and  gradually  caused  the  falling  of 
portions  of  the  wall  that  had  warmed  in  its  bosom  the 
oaken  serpents.  The  eagles  undisturbed  make  their 
nests  in  the  towers  formerly  full  of  soldiers ;  and  by  the 
waysides,  bleached  by  time,  are  found  the  bones  of  wild 
goats  brought  hither  by  the  jackals. 

At  many  points  I  lost  every  trace  of  the  wall;  then 
suddenly  I  would  see  it  rising  again  from  the  grass  and 
undergrowth. 

Having  proceeded  thus  for  nearly  three  versts,  we 
arrived  at  a  gate,  and  passed  from  the  north  side  to  the 
south  under  an  arch  covered  with  herbs  and  roots. 

We  had  hardly  gone  twenty  paces  when  we  came  upon 
six  armed  mountaineers. 

They  were  lying  in  the  shade  near  their  horses,  which 
were  browsing  on  the  grass. 

Then  I  saw  what  a  mistake  I  had  made  in  taking  so 
long  a  ride  outside  of  Derbeud  without  an  escort. 

It  was  impossible  to  escape  by  flight  on  account  of  the 


278  8ULTANETTA. 

rocks  and  brush.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  rash  for 
two  men  to  attack  six.  Nevertheless,  I  drew  my  pist<jl 
from  its  holster;  but  Amnialat,  taking  in  the  situation, 
decided  at  a  glance,  and,  thrusting  back  my  weapon  into 
its  case,  said  in  an  undertone, — 

"  Don't  touch  your  pistol,  or  we  are  lost ;  only, 
don't  take  your  eyes  from  me,  and  do  what  you  see 
me  do." 

The  brigands  had  seen  us;  they  rose  quickly  and 
seized  their  guns. 

One  man  only  remained  stretched  on  the  grass. 

Raising  his  head,  he  looked  at  us,  and  made  a  sign  to 
his  companions. 

Instantly  we  were  surrounded,  and  a  mountaineer 
seized  my  horse  by  the  bridle. 

There  was  but  one  path  in  front  of  us,  and  the  Lesghian 
chief  was  lying  in  the  middle  of  that. 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  descend  from  your  horses,  my 
dear  giiests, "  said  he,  smiling. 

I  hesitated.  Ammalat  made  me  a  sign  to  remain  on 
my  horse,  but  he  sprang  to  the  ground. 

That  appeared  to  satisfy  the  Lesghian  chief. 

Ammalat  approached  him. 

"  Good  day,  my  dear  fellow!  "  he  said.  "  On  my  word, 
I  was  not  expecting  to  see  you  to-day;  I  thought  the 
devil  had  made  you  into  chislik  long  ago." 

"Not  so  fast,  Ammalat  Beg!"  returned  the  bandit, 
with  a  frown.  "  Before  such  a  thing  happens,  I  live  in 
hopes  of  giving  the  eagles  a  few  carcasses  of  Russians  and 
of  Tartars  like  yourself." 

"  How  goes  the  sport  1  "  demanded  Ammalat,  as  tran- 
quilly as  if  he  had  not  heard. 

"  Badly.     The  Russians  keep  as  close  as  cowards.** 

I  started;  but  I  encountered  two  glances  fixed  upon 


SULTANETTA.  279 

me  at  the  same  time, —  the  hateful  glance  of  the  mountain- 
eer and  the  gentle,  serene  gaze  of  Ammalat  Beg. 

"  I  have  taken,"  continued  the  Lesghian,  "  only  a  few 
flocks  and  a  dozen  cavalry  horses,  and  really  I  was 
deciding  this  very  day  that  I  must  return  empty-handed. 
But  Allah  is  great,  and  he  sends  me  a  rich  beg  and  a 
Russian  colonel." 

On  hearing  these  words,  my  heart  seemed  to  stop 
beating. 

"  Never  sell  your  falcon  when  he  is  above  the  clouds," 
said  Ammalat  Beg,  laughing,  "  but  only  when  he  has 
returned  to  your  hand." 

The  brigand  took  up  his  gun  and  looked  steadily 
at  us. 

"Ammalat,"  said  he,  "you  are  caught  and  well 
caught:  don't  think  to  escape  me,  either  you  or  your 
companion.  But, "  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "  perhaps  you 
count  on  defending  yourself  1  " 

"  Nonsense,  Chemardant !  Do  you  think  we  are  fools 
enough  to  fight  two  to  six  ?  We  like  money  very  well ; 
but  far  above  money  we  value  our  lives.  We  are  caught ; 
we  will  pay,  providing  that  you  are  not  too  exacting. 
You  know,  indeed,  that  I  am  an  orphan.  Neither  has 
the  colonel  any  parents." 

"  You  have  neither  father  nor  mother ;  but  you  have 
your  father's  inheritance." 

"  I  have  nothing,  for  I  am  the  prisoner  of  the 
Russians. " 

"  If  you  are  a  prisoner,  why  not  profit  by  the  occasion 
to  escape?     I  will  set  you  free  myself." 

"  There  is  the  only  man  who  can  set  me  free, "  said 
Ammalat,  pointing  to  me.  "He  has  my  word:  until  he 
gives  it  back  to  me,  I  shall  follow  him  wherever  he  is 
pleased   to   lead    me.      A    Mohammedan's   word    is  aa 


280  SULTANBTTA. 

invisible  as  a  hair  of  a  woman's  head,  but  it  is  as  strong 
as  a  chain  of  iron. " 

"If  you  have  no  money,  we  will  be  content  with 
sheep;  one  word  to  Sophyr  Ali,  who  stayed  to  guard 
your  house,  will  settle  the  matter.  But  don't  talk  to 
me  of  the  colonel's  poverty :  I  know  that  there  is  not  a 
soldier  in  his  regiment  that  would  not  sell  the  last  button 
of  his  uniform  to  ransom  him.  In  any  case,  we  shall 
aee.     Allah  preserve  me !     I  am  not  a  Jew. " 

"  Be  reasonable,  Chemardant, "  continued  the  young 
Tartar,  "and  we  shall  not  think  of  either  defence  or 
flight." 

"  I  believe  you,  and  I  would  prefer  to  have  the  matter 
settled  without  powder  or  shot. " 

Then,  with  a  bantering  glance,  be  continued, — 

"How  tine  you  have  become,  AmmalatI  What  a 
horse  !  what  a  gun !  Show  me  your  poniard,  now.  It 
is  of  Kouba  make  !  " 

"  No,  it  was  made  at  Kisliar, "  replied  Ammalat. 

Then,  drawing  the  weapon  from  its  sheath,  he  said,^ 

"  The  scabbard  is  nothing  to  see,  look  at  the  blade. 
The  blade  is  a  miracle  of  workmanship.  On  the  side 
you  can  see  the  name  of  the  maker;  read  it  for  yourself: 
«AIi  Ousta  Kasanisky.'" 

Ammalat  hold  up  his  kandjiar  before  the  eyes  of  the 
bandit  who  was  endeavoring  to  decipher  the  inscription 
engraved  on  the  blade. 

He  shot  me  a  glance  that  made  me  shudder. 

Suddenly  the  kandjiar  ilaslied  like  lightning,  and  dis* 
appeared  to  the  hilt  in  the  Lcsgliian's  breast. 

I  had  guessed  as  much.  I  seized  the  pistol  in  my 
holster,  and  aimed  at  the  head  of  the  mountaineer  holding 
my  horse. 

Seeing  two  of  their  comrades  fall,  the  other  four  took 
to  their  heels. 


SULTANETTA.  281 

Ammalat  tranquilly  set  to  work  to  despoil  the  dead. 

"My  friend,"  said  I,  shaking  my  head,  "I  do  not 
know  whether  I  ought  to  commend  you  for  what  you 
have  just  done.  A  ruse  is  always  a  ruse, — that  is  to 
say,  a  narrow,  mean  trick,  even  against  an  enemy." 

He  looked  up  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"  Really,  colonel, "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  are  a  strange 
man!  That  bandit  has  injured  the  Russians  terribly. 
Don't  you  know  that  he  would  have  drained  our  blood 
drop  by  drop  to  get  gold  1  " 

"  True,  Ammalat, "  I  answered ;  "  but  to  lie,  to  call 
him  your  friend,  to  be  talking  with  him  in  friendly 
fashion,  and  suddenly  plunge  your  kandjiar  into  his  heart ! 
Could  we  not  have  begun  as  we  ended  ?  " 

"  No,  colonel,  no,  we  could  not.  If  I  had  not  ap- 
proached the  chief,  if  I  had  not  addressed  him  as  a 
friend,  we  should  have  been  killed  at  the  first  movement 
that  we  made.  I  know  the  mountaineers  very  well. 
They  are  brave,  but  only  in  the  presence  of  their  chief. 
It  was  necessary  therefore  to  begin  with  him.  When  he 
was  dead,  see  how  they  ran  !  " 

I  again  shook  my  head. 

This  Asiatic  deceit,  to  which  I  owed  my  life,  did  not 
please  me. 

As  for  Ammalat,  after  taking  the  chief's  weapons,  he 
came  to  secure  those  of  the  Lesghian  whom  I  had  dropped 
with  a  shot  from  my  pistol. 

To  my  great  amazement,  the  poor  devil  was  not  dead. 
On  seeing  him  fall,  I  had  turned  my  horse  away  from  him. 

He  uttered  a  few  words  that  sounded  like  a  prayer. 

Ammalat  approached  him,  and  his  astonishment  was 
greater  than  mine  on  recognizing  the  wounded  man  — 
the  ball  had  pierced  both  cheeks  —  as  a  noukar  of 
Ackmeth  Khan's. 


282  SULTANETTA. 

**  How  do  you  come  to  be  with  these  Lesghian  brig- 
ands ?  "  demanded  he. 

"The  devil  tempted  me,"  he  answered;  "Ackmeth 
Khan  sent  me  to  the  village  of  Kemmek  with  a  letter  to 
Ibrahim,  the  physician,  asking  him  to  come  to  Khunsack 
without  delay. " 

"  You  were  sent  for  Ibrahim  1 "  demanded  Ammalat, 
quickly.  , 

"  Yes." 

"  Who,  then,  is  ill  at  Khunsack  t  " 

"  The  young  Khaness  Sultanetta. " 

"  lU  ?  "  cried  Ammalat;  "  Sultanetta  Ul  1  " 

"  Here  is  the  letter, "  said  the  noukar. 

And,  upon  this,  he  handed  Ammalat  Beg  a  little  roll 
of  money  with  a  paper. 

Ammalat  became  as  pale  as  death;  tremblingly  he 
unfolded  the  paper,  and  as  he  read,  repeated  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice, — 

"  *  She  eats  nothing !  —  For  tliree  nights  she  has  not 
slept!     She  is  delirious;  her  life  is  in  danger,  save  her!  * 

"  My  God !  my  God  I  "  cried  Ammalat,  "  and  I  was 
laughing,  amusing  myself,  while  the  soul  of  my  soul  is 
on  the  point  of  leaving  earth  !  Oh  !  may  all  the  curses 
of  Allah  fall  on  my  head,  if  only  she  may  be  cured! 
Dear,  beautiful  girl !  oh  !  you  are  drooping,  withering, 
O  rose  of  Avarie  1  Death  beckons  you,  saying,  *  Come ! ' 
and,  while  calling  on  me  to  save  you,  you  are  forced  to 
follow  Death  I  —  Colonel,  colonel, "  he  cried,  seizing  my 
hand,  "  in  the  name  of  your  God,  grant  my  sacred 
prayer,  the  only  one  I  will  ever  make  you.  Let  me  see 
her  once,  once  more,  a  last  time." 

"  Whom  do  you  wisli  to  see,  Ammalat  t  ** 

**  Sultanetta,  the  soul  of  my  soul,  the  apple  of  my  eye, 
the  light  of  my  life ;  Sultanetta,  the  daughter  of  the  khan 


SULTANETTA.  283 

of  Avarie.  She  is  ill,  dying,  dead  perhaps.  While  I 
waste  speech  here,  she  is  dying !  and  I  have  not  received 
her  last  look,  her  last  sigh.  Oh  !  why  do  not  the  burn- 
ing ruins  of  the  sun  fall  upon  my  head  1  Why  does  not 
the  earth  open  and  swallow  me  up  1 " 

And  he  fell  upon  my  breast,  suffocated  by  the  tears 
which  would  not  come,  sobbing  aloud,  but  unable  to 
utter  another  word. 

It  was  no  time  to  reproach  him  with  his  long-continued 
reticence;  but  was  it  indeed  right  that  I  should  let  a 
prisoner  return,  even  for  one  day,  to  the  house  of  one  of 
Russia's  greatest  enemies  ? 

There  are  some  situations  in  life  before  which  all  social 
proprieties,  all  political  considerations  efface  themselves, 
and  Ammalat  was  in  such  a  strait. 

Whatever  might  come  of  it,  I  resolved  to  grant  his 
request. 

I  clasped  him  in  my  arms :  our  tears  were  mingled. 

"  Friend, "  said  I,  "  go  where  your  heart  calls  you ; 
God  grant  that  where  you  go  you  will  carry  health  and 
peace  of  mind !     Bon  voyage,  Ammalat !  " 

"  Adieu,  my  benefactor  !  "  he  cried ;  "  adieu  forever, 
perhaps  !  If  God  takes  Sultanetta  from  me,  he  will  take 
my  life  at  the  same  time.  Farewell,  and  Allah  keep 
you !  " 

And  he  set  off  at  a  gallop,  descending  the  mountain 
with  the  swiftness  of  a  rock  bounding  into  the  valley. 

As  for  the  wounded  man,  I  put  him  in  the  saddle,  and, 
leading  my  horse  by  the  bridle,  I  brought  him  back  to 
Derbend. 

So  then,  it  is  true :  he  is  in  love. 

Yes,  I  understand  your  remonstrance,  darling  Marie; 
but  Khan  Ackmeth  is  the  enemy  of  the  Russians.  Par- 
doned by  the  emperor,  he  has  betrayed  us.     There  is  no 


284  8ULTANETTA- 

pussible  alliance  between  Ammalat  and  him  except  by 
Ammalat's  betraying  us  in  his  turn,  or  by  Ackmeth 
Khan's  deciding  to  remain  neutral. 

We  cannot  believe  one  of  these  tilings,  we  cannot  hope 
for  the  other. 

Wliat  could  I  dof  I  have  sxiffered  so  much  from 
love  myself,  dear  Marie!  I  have  shed  so  many  tears 
upon  my  pillow !  I  have  so  often  desired  the  rest  of  the 
dead,  the  peace  of  the  tomb,  to  still  my  poor  heart,  that 
I  cannot  resist  such  sufferings.  Ought  I  not  to  pity  a 
young  man  whom  I  tenderly  love,  for  loving  foohshly 
himself  7  Unfortiuiately,  my  pity  is  not  a  bridge  that 
can  conduct  him  to  happiness.  Had  he  not  been  loved, 
perhaps  he  would  gradually  have  forgotten. 

Certainly, — and  I  seem  to  hear  your  sweet  voice 
making  this  observation,  — certainly  circumstances  may 
alter  for  them,  as  they  have  altered  for  us.  In  this 
world,  can  unhappiness  alone  be  everlasting  f 

I  say  nothing,  but  I  suspect  —  I  fear  for  them,  and, 
who  knows  !  perhaps  for  us. 

We  are  too  happy,  my  dearest  Marie !  the  future 
smiles  upon  us,  hope  sings  its  sweetest  songs.  But  the 
future !  It  is  a  calm  sea  to-day,  a  stormy  one  to-morrow ! 
And  hope  is  the  siren.  Yes,  to  be  sure,  everything  is 
ready  for  our  reunion ;  but  are  we  reunited  t 

I  do  not  know  why,  occasionally  a  fear  stabs  me  to 
the  heart  like  cold  steel.  I  do  not  know  why  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  separation,  so  near  its  close,  will  last 
forever. 

Oh  !  all  this  affright,  all  these  terrors,  all  this  anguish 
will  disappear,  have  no  fear,  my  dear  love,  with  the  very 
moment  when  I  shall  press  your  hand  against  my  lipfl| 
your  heart  against  my  heart. 

Soon,  soon,  my  darling  I 


SULTANETTA.  285 


XI. 


On  the  evening  of  that  same  day,  Ammalat's  horse 
fell  under  him,  never  to  get  up  again. 

He  procured  another,  and  continued  his  way  without 
thought  of  food  or  drink.  On  the  second  day,  he  came 
in  sight  of  Khunsack. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  had  trav- 
elled twenty-four  hours. 

The  farther  he  advanced,  the  stronger  grew  his  fears. 

Would  he  find  his  beloved  Sultanetta  alive  or  dead? 

A  chill  passed  through  his  frame  as  he  saw  the  towers 
of  the  khan's  palace. 

He  could  see  nothing,  conjecture  nothing. 

"  Which  shall  I  find  down  there  1 "  he  asked  himself, — 
"life  or  death?" 

And  he  urged  his  horse  with  whip  and  knees. 

A  rider  was  preceding  him,  armed  as  for  a  fight; 
another  was  coming  to  meet  that  one  along  the  road  from 
Khunsack. 

When  they  were  within  such  distance  as  to  be  able  to 
recognize  each  other,  each  pushed  on  at  a  gallop  to  meet 
the  other. 

Were  they  friends  or  foes  ? 

In  full  career  each  drew  his  sword;  on  meeting,  each 
lunged  at  the  other. 

Neither  spoke  a  single  word.  Did  not  the  sparks  fly- 
ing from  their  schaskas  speak  for  them  ? 

Amraalat  Beg,  whose  way  they  barred,  watched  them 
in  amazement. 


286  8ULTANETTA. 

But  the  combat  was  brief.  The  horseman  who  had 
come  from  the  same  direction  as  Ammalat  Beg,  fell 
backward  upon  his  horse's  crupper,  and  thence  to  the 
ground. 

His  head  was  laid  open  to  the  eyes. 

The  victor  calmly  wiped  his  sword,  and,  addressing 
Ammalat,  said, — 

"  You  are  welcome,  be  my  witness. " 

"  I  have  witnessed  the  death  of  a  man, "  replied  Am- 
malat.    "  How  can  that  help  you  t  " 

"  The  man  had  injured  me.  It  was  not  I  who  killed 
him,  but  God.  Your  presence  helps  me,  in  that  no  one 
can  say  that  I  murdered  him  by  lying  in  wait,  and  after- 
wards murder  me  in  the  same  fashion.  It  was  in  com* 
bat,  was  it  not  t  " 

"  Yes,  certainly, "  answered  Ammalat. 

*•  And  you  will  swear  to  it  if  need  be  t  * 

**  Since  it  is  the  truth." 

**  Thanks ;  that  is  all  I  desire  of  you.  I  do  not  ask 
your  name,  I  know  it.  You  are  the  nephew  of  Chamkal 
Tarkovsky." 

"  But  why  had  you  quarrelled  ?  "  pursued  Ammalat. 
"You  were  mortal  enemies,  then,  to  have  fought  so 
desperately  t " 

"  We  were  mortal  enemies,  as  you  say.  "We  had 
caught  twenty  sheep  between  us:  ten  belonged  to  me, 
ten  to  him.  Ho  was  not  willing  to  let  me  have  mine, 
and  he  killed  them  all,  profiting  nobody ;  then  he  slan- 
dered my  wife.  He  would  have  done  better,  the  mis- 
creant, to  curse  the  tomb  of  my  father,  and  the  name  of 
my  mother,  than  to  Attack  the  honor  of  my  wife.  I 
sprang  upon  him  with  my  poniard,  but  we  were  sepa- 
rated. Then  we  agreed,  wherever  we  might  meet,  to 
fight  it  out  to  the  death.     We  have  met:  he  is  dead. 


SULTANETTA.  287 

Allah  has  maintained  the  right.  —  You  are  going  to 
Khunsack,  probably,  to  visit  the  khan  ? "  queried  the 
horseman  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Yes, "  answered  Ammalat,  leaping  his  horse  over  the 
dead  man's  body. 

"  The  visit  is  untimely.  Beg,"  admonished  the  other, 
shaking  his  head. 

Ammalat's  blood  surged  to  his  heart.  He  nearly  fell 
from  his  horse. 

"  Has  any  misfortune  overtaken  the  house  of  Khan 
Ackmeth?  "  he  demanded. 

"  His  daughter  Sultanetta  was  very  ill. " 

"  And  —  she  is  dead  1  "  cried  Ammalat,  losing  his 
color. 

"  Perhaps  so.  An  hour  ago,  when  I  passed  the  house, 
every  one  was  running  about.  On  the  stairs  and  through 
the  hall  the  women  were  weeping  as  if  the  Russians  had 
taken  Khunsack.  In  any  case,  if  you  wish  to  see  her 
alive,  make  haste." 

But  Ammalat  heard  no  more,  he  had  set  off  at  a  run ; 
only  the  dust  was  to  be  seen  rising  from  his  horse's  hoofs. 
He  cleared  the  hill  still  between  him  and  the  village, 
tore  through  the  streets,  dashed  into  the  court,  leaped 
from  his  horse,  and,  all  breathless,  bounded  up  the  flight 
of  steps,  and  on  to  Sultanetta's  chamber,  brushing  aside 
everything  and  every  one  that  he  encountered  on  his  way, 
noukars  and  servants,  and,  almost  senseless,  fell  on  his 
knees  at  Sultanetta's  bedside. 

Ammalat's  unexpected  arrival  drew  an  exclamation 
from  all  who  were  in  the  room. 

At  this  exclamation  Sultanetta,  pale,  dying,  with  life 
already  almost  extinct,  gave  a  start  in  the  depths  of  her 
delirium.  Her  cheeks  burned  with  a  deceptive  tint.  Like 
the  autumn  leaf  which  reddens  and  falls,  her  eyes  bright* 


288  8ULTANETTA. 

ened  with  the  last  glow  of  the  departing  soul.  For  sev* 
eral  hours  now,  overcome  by  her  weakness,  she  had  been 
motionless  and  speechless;  but,  amidst  all  the  exclama- 
tions, she  had  recognized  the  voice  of  Ammalat. 

Life,  so  near  its  flight,  hesitated,  like  the  trembling 
flame  of  a  candle  steadying  itself  at  the  moment  when 
we  think  it  is  going  out. 

She  rose  on  one  arm ;  her  eyes  shone. 

**  Is  it  you  t  "  she  murmured,  extending  her  hands  to 
Ammalat. 

"  She  speaks!  she  speaks!  "  cried  Ammalat. 

And  every  one  stood  open-mouthed  and  with  breath 
suspended. 

"  Allah  be  praised !  "  she  continued,  "  I  die  content,  I 
die  happy." 

This  time,  there  rose  a  cry  of  despair ;  they  thought 
her  dead. 

A  smile  sealed  her  lips ;  her  eyes  were  closed,  she  had 
again  lost  consciousness. 

In  despair  Ammalat  took  her  in  his  arms ;  he  listened 
neither  to  the  khan's  questions  nor  to  his  wife's  re- 
proaches. 

Force  was  employed  to  wrest  him  away  and  banish  him 
from  the  room.  Crouching  at  the  door,  prostrating  him- 
self on  the  floor,  sobbing,  at  times  beseeching  Allah  to 
save  Sultanetta,  at  times  blaming  heaven  and  upbraiding 
himself  for  the  illness  of  his  loved  one,  his  grief,  un- 
temi>ered  by  Christian  resignation,  was  terrible  to  wit- 
ness ;  it  was  that  of  the  tiger,  with  its  threatening  roar. 

What  should  have  killed  the  sick  one,  saved  her. 

What  the  science  of  the  mountain  physician  could  not 
do,  chance  accomplished.  A  violent  shock  was  needed 
to  set  in  motion  the  frozen  current  of  life;  she  would 
have  died  not  so  much  from  the  malady  as  from  the 


SULTANETTA.  289 

exhaustion  following  it,    like  a  lamp  flickering  out  for 
want  of  air,  rather  than  from  the  violence  of  the  wind. 

At  last  youth  gained  the  mastery.  That  violent 
transport  had  awakened  life  in  the  depths  of  the  dying 
girl's  heart,  and,  after  a  long,  calm  sleep,  she  awoke,  in 
possession  of  a  part  of  her  lost  strength,  and  a  freshness 
of  feeling  which  she  had  never  hoped  to  experience  again. 

Her  mother  was  leaning  over  her  bed,  waiting  for  a 
sign  of  recognition.  Ammalat  was  concealed  by  the 
tapestry  of  the  doorway ;  he  had  given  his  word  not  to 
enter,  and  the  khan  was  standing  behind  him  for  fear 
that  he  would  forget. 

Sultanetta  breathed  a  sigh,  her  eyes  wandered  vaguely 
around ;  then  her  glance  was  arrested,  became  fixed,  and 
concentrated  itself  upon  her  mother. 

She  smiled  before  speaking. 

"  Oh,  mother, "  she  said,  "  it  is  you.  If  you  knew 
how  light  I  feel !  Am  I  poised  on  wings  ?  How  sweet 
it  is  to  sleep  after  long  wakefulness,  to  rest  after  great 
fatigue  !  How  fair  the  day  is !  How  brilliant  the  light ! 
How  beautiful  the  sun!  The  very  walls  of  the  room 
seem  to  be  smiling  on  me.  Oh,  I  have  been  very  ill, 
a  long  time  ill,  have  I  not  ?  " 

And  with  a  sigh,  while  passing  her  hand  over  her 
forehead  still  damp  with  perspiration,  she  continued, — 

"  Oh,  I  have  suffered  so  much.  Now,  glory  be  to 
Allah !  I  am  only  weak ;  but  I  feel  that  this  exhaustion 
will  very  quickly  pass  away.  One  would  think  that  a 
string  of  pearls  was  coursing  my  veins.  Oh,  how 
strange  it  is !  I  see  all  that  has  happened  as  if  through 
a  mist.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  plunged  into  an  ice-cold 
sea  and  yet  was  burning  with  thirst.  Then,  afar  off 
through  the  haze,  1  saw  two  stars.  But  they  wavered, 
grew  darker  and  darker,  and  threatened  to  go  out;  I  kept 


290  8ULTANETTA. 

sioking,  drawn  down  more  deeply  by  an  irresistible 
force.  Suddenly  a  voice  called  my  name,  and  I  felt  a 
hand,  stronger  than  the  hand  of  death,  raising  me  out  of 
that  cold,  gloomy  abyss.  Then,  in  a  first  ray  of  light,  I 
saw  the  face  of  Ammalat  appear.  At  once  the  stars 
became  more  brilliant,  and  a  dash,  like  a  serpent  of  fire, 
struck  me  to  the  heart.  Then  I  seemed  to  faint  away, 
for  I  remember  nothing  more." 

Ammalat,  with  bursting  heart,  his  cheeks  bathed  in 
silent  tears,  and  eyes  and  hands  raised  to  heaven,  was 
listening;  and  as  he  listened,  he  murmured  a  heartfelt 
prayer  of  thankfulness. 

He  started  to  rush  headlong  into  the  room  when  the 
young  girl  spoke  his  name. 

But  Ackmeth  Khan,  as  much  moved  as  he,  and  weep- 
ing also,  said  in  a  whisper, — 

"  To-morrow,  tomorrow." 

The  next  day,  indeed,  Ammalat  was  permitted  to  see 
the  invalid. 

Ackmeth  Khan  himself  took  him  in,  thus  acquitting 
himself  of  his  promise. 

**  May  all  the  world  be  as  happy  as  I, "  said  he. 

Sultanetta  had  been  forewarned ;  but  her  emotion  was 
none  the  less  profound  when  her  eyes  met  those  of  Am- 
malat, whom  she  loved  so  much  and  for  whom  she  had  so 
long  waited. 

The  lovers  were  unable  to  utter  a  single  word;  but 
their  eyes  told  each  other  all  the  sentiments  of  their 
hearts.  Each  saw  on  the  other's  pale  cheek  the  impress 
of  grief,  the  trace  of  tears.  Undoubtedly  the  fresh 
beauty  of  the  woman  one  loves  is  full  of  charm;  but 
that  sickly  pallor  which  comes  from  separation  is  far 
sweeter  to  the  eyes  of  a  lover.  A  heart  of  stone  melts 
away  under  a  tearful  glance  that  says  without  blame, — 


StlLTANETfA.  201 

"  I  am  happy ;  I  have  suffered  so  much  for  you  and 
through  you." 

These  few  words  made  the  tears  spring  to  Ammalat's 
eyes.  Eemembering  that  he  was  not  alone,  he  made  an 
effort  at  self-control,  Jiolding  up  his  head;  but  his  voice 
rebelled,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  suc- 
ceeded in  saying, — 

"  It  is,  indeed,  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  each 
other,  Sultanetta!  " 

"  And  we  came  very  near  never  seeing  each  other 
again,  Ammalat, "  replied  Sultanetta.  "  We  were  very 
nearly  parted  forever." 

"  Forever !  "  returned  Ammalat,  reproachfully.  "  You 
could  think  that,  believe  that,  when  there  is  a  world  in 
which  beings  meet  who  have  loved  each  other  in  this 
one.  Oh,  had  I  lost  the  talisman  of  my  happiness,  with 
what  scorn  woidd  I  have  flung  away  that  rag  they  call 
life!  Oh,  I  should  not  have  struggled  long,  no.  To 
have  been  vanquished  would  be  to  have  rejoined  you. " 

"  Then  why  do  I  not  die  ?  "  said  Sultanetta,  smil- 
ing. "  You  make  out  the  other  world  to  be  so  beautiful 
that  it  must  be  better  than  this,  Ammalat,  and  I  should 
like  to  go  as  soon  as  possible. " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Sultanetta ;  make  no  such  impious  wish. 
You  must  live  a  long  time  for  happiness  —  " 

He  was  about  to  add,  "  for  love ;  "  he  stopped. 

Gradually  the  roses  of  health  budded  on  the  young 
girl's  cheeks.  The  breath  of  happiness  caused  them  to 
bloom. 

At  the  end  of  eight  days  things  had  resumed  their 
ordinary  course,  and  all  went  as  before  Ammalat's  de- 
parture from  Khunsack. 

Khan  Ackmeth  made  inquiries  of  Ammalat  as  to  the 
number  and  position  of  the  Russian  troops. 


3d2  StTI/TANETTA. 

The  khauess  questioned  him  about  the  fashions  and 
jewels  of  the  women ;  and  as  often  as  Ammalat  told  her 
that  their  women  wore  neither  trousers  nor  veils,  she 
invoked  Allah's  holy  name. 

Assured  that  health  was  returning  to  Sultanetta,  Am- 
malat began  to  be  gloomy.  Often,  in  the  midst  of  a 
cheerful,  happy  conversation,  he  would  pause,  his  head 
would  fall  upon  his  breast,  and  his  eyes  fill  with  tears. 
Profound  sighs  seemed  to  rend  his  bosom.  Sometimes 
he  would  spring  from  his  place  as  if  touched  by  an  elec- 
tric spark.  His  eyes  shot  angry  flames,  and,  with  a  cold 
smile,  he  would  caress  the  hilt  of  his  kandjiar.  Then, 
as  if  yielding  to  invisible  bonds,  he  would  groan,  become 
pensive,  and  even  Sultanetta  could  not  win  him  from 
his  revery. 

Once,  at  such  a  time,  the  lovers  being  quite  alone, 
Sultanetta,  leaning  upon  his  shoulder,  said  to  him,  — 

"  You  are  sad,  my  poor  heart!  you  are  tired  of  staying 
near  me ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  cast  such  a  reproach  on  one  who  loves  you 
better  than  heaven,"  said  Ammalat.  "But  I  have  al- 
ready tried  the  hell  of  separation,  and  I  cannot  think  of 
it  without  anguish.  Oh,  I  would  a  hundred  times  rather 
die  than  leave  you  again,  my  beautiful  Sultanetta. " 

"  Leave  me  1  you  speak  of  leaving  me !  If  you  think 
of  separation,  it  must  be  that  you  desire  it." 

"  Oh,  don't  poison  my  wound  with  suspicion,  Sulta- 
netta. Until  now  you  have  known  but  one  thing,  —  how 
to  flourish  like  a  rose,  how  to  fly  like  a  binl.  Until  now, 
twice  liappy  child,  your  wish  has  been  your  only  guide ; 
but  as  for  me,  I  am  a  man.  Fate  has  welded  about  my 
neck  a  chain  of  steel,  and  the  end  of  that  chain  is  in 
the  hands  of  a  man,  a  friend,  my  benefactor.  Duty  and 
gratitude  summon  me  to  Derbend." 


SULTANETTA.  293 

**  A  chain!  a  friend!  a  benefactor!  duty!  how  many 
words  does  it  take  to  conceal  your  desire  to  leave  me  ? 
But,  before  selling  your  soul  to  friendship,  had  you  not 
given  it  to  love  ?  You  had  no  right  to  pledge  what  no 
longer  belonged  to  you,  Ammalat.  Oh,  forget  your 
Verkovsky,  forget  your  Russian  friend  and  your  beauti- 
ful ladies  of  Derbend ;  forget  war,  forget  glory.  I  hate 
l)loodshed  since  I  saw  your  blood  flow.  What  do  you 
lack  in  our  mountains  for  a  free  and  comfortable  life? 
No  one  will  come  here  to  look  for  you.  My  father  has 
many  horses  and  plenty  of  money,  while  I  —  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  love.  Surely,  you  are  not  going  away ! 
surely,  you  Avill  stay  with  me !  " 

"  No,  Sultanetta,  I  cannot,  must  not  stay.  To  live 
and  die  with  you  is  my  one  prayer,  my  one  desire;  but 
all  that  depends  on  your  father.  For  having  listened  to 
Ackmeth  Khan  I  was  about  to  die  a  death  both  cruel 
and  infamous.  A  Russian  saved  my  life.  Can  I  now 
wed  the  daughter  of  the  Russians'  implacable  foe?  If 
your  father  will  let  me  make  his  peace  with  them,  Sulta- 
netta, I  shall  be  the  happiest  of  men." 

"  You  know  my  father, "  answered  Sultanetta,  sadly. 
"  Day  by  day  his  hatred  of  the  Russians  increases,  if  it 
were  possible.  He  will  sacrifice  both  of  us  to  his  hatred. 
Besides,  fate  has  decreed  that  the  colonel  should  kill  tho 
noukar  whom  he  had  sent  for  Ibrahim." 

"  Yes,  Sultanetta,  like  you  I  regret  the  death  of  that 
man.  And  yet  it  was  owing  to  that  circumstance  that 
I  learned  of  what  was  happening  here,  that  I  saw 
you  again.  If  that  man  were  alive,  you  would  be 
dead." 

"  Well,  try  your  influence  with  my  father. " 

"  Do  you  think  that  it  would  be  my  first  attempt  1 
Alas  I    Every  time  that  I  have  spoken  to  Ackmeth  Khan 


294  SULTANETTA. 

of  my  hopes,   'Swear  enmity  to  the    Russians/  ho  ha« 
answered,  *aud  then  I  will  listen  to  you.'  " 

"  That  means  that  we  must  renounce  hope.** 

Clasping  Sultanetta  in  his  arms,  the  young  man  strained 
her  to  his  heart. 

**  Why  must  we  say  good-bye  to  hope  1 "  he  asked ; 
"  are  you,  then,  chained  to  Avarie  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  tlie  young  girl,  fixing 
upon  him  her  limpid  and  questioning  eyes. 

"  Love  me  more  than  all  the  world,  Sultanetta,  more 
than  your  father,  more  than  your  motlier,  more  than 
your  country,  and  then  you  will  understand  me.  Sul- 
tanetta, I  cannot  live  without  you.  If  you  love  me, 
Sultanetta  —  " 

**  If  I  love  you !  **  returned  the  young  girl,  proudly. 

**  Fly  from  here,  Sultanetta ;  let  us  leave  Khunsack.'* 

"  Fly  !  "  repeated  she.  "  Oh,  my  God !  the  daughter 
of  the  khan  to  fly  like  a  fugitive,  like  a  guilty  thing,  like 
a  criminal !     It  is  frightful,  unheard  of,  impossible  !  " 

"  Do  not  tell  me  that,  Sultanetta.  If  the  sacrifice  is 
great,  my  love  is  infinite.  Order  me  to  die,  and  I  will 
die  with  the  greatest  contempt  for  life.  Do  you  wish 
more  than  my  life  t  Would  you  have  my  soul  t  I  will 
cast  it  to  the  lowest  depths  of  hell  at  a  word  from  you. 
You  are  the  khan's  daughter;  but  my  uncle  wears  the 
crown  of  a  principality.  And  I,  too,  am  a  prince,  and, 
I  swear  it,  Sultanetta,  worthy  of  you.  ** 

**But  my  father's  revenge, — you  forget  that,  unhappy 
man!" 

"  In  the  course  of  time,  he  will  himself  forget ;  on 
seeing  how  much  I  love  you,  and  finding  that  you  are 
happy,  he  will  forgive.  His  heart  is  not  of  stone;  our 
caresses  will  soften  him,  our  tears  melt  him,  and  then, 
Sultanetta,  fortune  will  cover  us  with  its  golden  wings. 


SULTANETTA.  295 

and  then  we  can  proudly  say,  *  To  ourselves  we  owe  our 
happiness.'  " 

"  My  dear  love, "  said  Sultanetta,  sadly  shaking  her 
head,  "I  have  had  small  experience  as  yet;  but  do  you 
know  what  my  heart  tells  me?  That  one  cannot  be 
happy  through  ingratitude  and  deceit.  Let  us  wait, 
since  we  cannot  do  otherwise  without  sacrificing  the 
happiness  of  one  of  us,  and  we  shall  see  what  it  will 
please  Allah  to  send  us." 

"  Allah  inspired  me  with  that  thought ;  he  will  do 
nothing  more  for  us.  Have  pity  on  me,  Sultanetta ;  let 
us  fly,  if  you  do  not  wish  the  hour  of  marriage  to 
sound  above  my  tomb.  I  have  given  my  word  that  I 
would  return  to  Derbend,  I  must  keep  my  word  and 
keep  it  promptly.  But  to  go  without  hope  of  seeing  you 
again,  with  the  agony  of  knowing  that  you  will  one  day 
be  the  wife  of  another,  is  fearful,  insupportable,  impos- 
sible. If  not  out  of  love  for  me,  Sultanetta,  then  let  it 
be  through  your  pity.  Partake  of  my  lot,  do  not  hunt 
me  from  my  Paradise,  do  not  cause  me  to  lose  my  reason. 
You  do  not  know  to  what  point  of  folly  a  defrauded 
passion  can  carry  a  heart  like  mine.  I  can  forget  all, 
trample  all  under  foot,  —  the  sanctity  of  the  fireside,  the 
hospitality  of  your  parents;  I  can  astonish  bandits  of 
most  renowned  fame  by  the  bloody  repute  of  my  name. 
I  can  make  the  angels  of  heaven  weep  at  the  sight  of 
my  crimes.  Sultanetta,  save  me  from  the  curses  of 
others,  save  me  from  your  own  scorn.  Night  has  fallen, 
my  horses  are  as  swift  as  the  wind;  let  us  fly  to  kindly 
Russia,  and  wait  there  till  the  storm  is  past.  For  the 
last  time,  I  implore  you,  on  my  knees,  with  clasped 
hands.  Shame  or  glory,  life  or  death,  all  rest  on  one 
word  from  you,  —  yes  or  no. " 

Restrained  on  the  one  hand  by  maidenly  fear  and  h^ 


296  SULTANinTA. 

respect  for  ancient  usages,  tempted  on  the  other  by  the 
love  and  fiery  eloquence  of  her  lover,  Sultanetta  drifted 
uncertainly  ou  tliat  stormy  sea  wliose  every  wave  was  a 
passion;  at  last  she  rose,  and,  wiping  away  the  tears 
that  shone  upon  her  long  lashes,  with  as  much  pride  as 
resolution,  she  replied, — 

**  Ammalat,  do  not  tempt  me ;  love's  flame,  all  shining 
as  it  is,  does  not  blind  me ;  I  shall  always  know  how  to 
distinguish  between  right  and  wrong  and  good  and  evil. 
It  is  base,  Ammalat,  to  abandon  one's  family,  to  repay 
with  ingratitude  the  long  care  and  infinite  tenderness  of 
parents  who  have  reared  us.  Ah,  judge  now  if  I  love 
you,  Apimalat!  even  while  knowing  the  extent  of  my 
sacrifice,  even  while  measuring  the  extent  of  my  crime, — 
even  so,  Ammalat,  I  answer.  Yes!  and  I  say.  My  dear 
love,  I  consent  to  fly  with  you,  for  I  value  you  above  all 
the  blessings  and  all  the  virtues  in  the  world.  I  am 
yours,  Ammalat.  But  know  this  well :  it  was  not  your 
speech  that  influenced  me,  but  your  heart.  Allah  willed 
that  I  should  meet  and  love  you ;  let  our  hearts  then  be 
bound  togetljer  from  this  hour  on,  although  the  tie  which 
binds  us  be  a  withe  of  thorn !  All  is  at  an  end,  Amma- 
lat; we  no  longer  have  but  one  destiny,  one  heart,  one 
life,  one  future.     Let  us  go!  " 

If  the  azure  curtains  of  the  sky  itself  had  fallen  upon 
Ammalat  veiling  him  from  the  sun,  he  could  not  have 
been  happier  than  he  was  at  the  moment  when  that  con- 
sent, so  devote<l,  so  complete,  so  tender,  fell  from  the 
lips  of  Sultanetta. 

That  same  hour  all  was  fixed  upon  for  the  flicrht  of 
the  two  lovers. 

The  next  evening,  Ammalat  was  to  depart  on  a  grand 
hunt  which  would  be  supposed  to  last  for  three  days;  but 
he  would  return  on  the  same  evening.     The  night  was 


SULTANETTA.  297 

favorable,  as  there  was  no  moon.  Sultanetta  was  to  de- 
scend from  her  window  by  means  of  two  scarfs  knotted 
one  to  the  other:  Ammalat  would  receive  her  in  his 
arms. 

Horses  would  be  awaiting  them  in  the  little  chapel 
where  Sultanetta  and  Ammalat  had  met  after  the  tiger- 
hunt. 

And  then,  woe  to  the  enemy  in  the  path  who  should 
try  to  bar  their  way ! 

A  kiss  sealed  the  compact,  and  they  separated  full  of 
joy  and  fear. 

The  longed-for  morrow  came.  Ammalat  visited  his 
horse,  prepared  his  arms,  and  passed  the  entire  day  in 
consulting  the  sun. 

One  would  have  said  that  he,  too,  the  star  with  golden 
rays,  hesitated  in  his  course,  imwilling  to  leave  that 
brilliant,  warm  sky  and  sink  into  the  snows  of  the 
Caucasus. 

Ammalat  waited  for  the  night  as  for  his  affianced. 

Oh,  how  slowly  moved  that  sun!  how  the  heavenly 
traveller  loitered  along  his  luminous  path,  what  a  wide 
gulf  still  remained  between  hope  and  happiness  ! 

Four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  sounded :  it  is  the  Mus- 
sulman's dinner  hour.  They  were  grouped  around  the 
rug ;  but  Ackmeth  Khan  was  very  sad. 

His  eyes  flashed  under  his  knitted  brows.  Often  they 
rested  now  on  his  daughter  and  now  on  his  guest.  Some- 
times the  lines  of  his  face  would  contract  into  a  derisive 
look.  But  that  expression  would  soon  be  lost  in  the 
paleness  of  anger.  His  remarks  were  scoffing  and  brief, 
and  all  caused  repentance  to  spring  up  in  the  heart  of 
Sultanetta  and  fear  in  the  mind  of  Ammalat. 

Sultanetta 's  mother,  as  if  she  could  have  foreseen  the 
threatened  separation,  was  tenderer  and  more  thoughtful 


298  SULTAN  ETTA. 

than  usual,  and  Sultanetta  more  than  once  came  near 
bursting  into  tears  and  throwing  herself  into  her  mother's 
arms. 

After  dinner,  Khan  Ackmeth  called  Ammalat  into  the 
court.  The  horses  were  already  saddled  for  the  chase. 
Four  noukars  whom  Ammalat  had  sent  for  were  in  wait- 
ing, mingling  with  the  noukars  of  the  khan. 

"  Let  us  try  my  new  falcon, "  said  the  khan  to  Ammalat. 
"  The  evening  is  fine,  it  is  not  too  warm,  and  we  can 
still  between  now  and  night  get  a  few  pheasants  or 
partridges." 

Ammalat  could  not  but  comply ;  he  nodded  assent  and 
sprang  on  his  horse. 

Ackmeth  Khan  and  the  young  beg  proceeded  side  by 
side,  —  Ammalat  pensive.  Khan  Ackmeth  silent.  On  the 
left  and  along  a  rocky  steep,  a  mountaineer  was  climbing. 
His  feet  were  equipped  with  iron  crarapoons  by  means  of 
which  he  clung  to  the  rocky  crags,  with  the  further  aid 
of  an  iron  claw  at  tlie  extremity  of  his  staffl 

A  hat  full  of  wheat  was  fastened  in  front  of  him,  at 
his  belt. 

A  long  Tartar  musket  was  slung  across  his  shoulders. 

Khan  Ackmeth  halted  and,  pointing  him  out  to 
Ammalat,  said, — 

"  Look  at  that  old  man ;  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  he  is 
hunting  among  the  rocks  for  a  little  patch  of  earth  in 
which  to  sow  some  grain.  He  harvests  it  with  bleeding 
toil,  and  often  it  is  only  at  the  price  of  his  blood  that  he 
defends  his  flock  against  men  and  wild  beasts.  His 
country  is  poverty-stricken.  Ah,  well,  ask  him,  Am- 
malat, why  he  loves  his  country  so  much,  why  he  does 
not  change  it  for  a  richer  land.  He  will  answer :  '  Here 
I  am  free;  here  I  owe  no  man  tribute;  these  snows 
guard  my  pride  and  my  independence.'     That  independ* 


SULTANETTA.  299 

ence  the  Kussians  would  take  from  him,  and  you  yourself, 
Ammalat,  have  become  the  Russians'  slave." 

"  Khan,"  answered  the  young  man,  lifting  his  head, 
"  you  know  very  well  that  I  liave  been  overcome,  not  by 
the  power  of  the  Russians,  but  by  their  good-will.  I  am 
not  their  slave,  I  am  their  friend." 

"  Well,  it  is  the  greater  shame  to  you,  then ;  the 
chamkal's  heir  casts  about  for  golden  fetters  !  Ammalat 
Beg  lives  at  the  expense  of  Colonel  Verkovsky !  " 

"  Don't  say  that,  Khan  Ackmeth.  Verkovsky,  before 
giving  me  bread  and  salt,  gave  me  life.  He  loves  me, 
I  love  him.  Let  that  be  said  once  for  all,  and  let  us  say 
no  more  about  it." 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  friendship  with  unbe- 
lievers. To  fight  when  we  meet,  to  exterminate  them 
when  we  can,  these  are  the  laws  of  the  Koran  and  the 
duty  of  a  true  follower  of  the  Prophet." 

"Khan,  don't  meddle  with  the  bones  of  the  Prophet; 
you  are  no  mullah  to  tell  me  my  duty.  I  know  what  I 
have  to  do  as  a  man  of  honor,  and  I  shall  do  it.  I  have 
within  me  the  sense  of  right  and  of  wrong.  Let  us  talk 
of  something  else." 

"  This  sense,  Ammalat,  should  be  in  your  heart  rather 
than  on  your  lips." 

Ammalat  gave  a  sign  of  impatience. 

But,  taking  no  notice  of  this  sign,  which  he  had  per- 
fectly understood,  Khan  Ackmeth  proceeded :  — 

"  A  last  time,  Ammalat,  will  you  listen  to  the  coun- 
sels of  a  friend  1  Will  you  abandon  the  unbelievers  and 
stay  with  us  1 " 

"  I  would  have  given  my  life  for  the  happiness  you 
hold  out  to  me,  Khan  Ackmeth, "  said  the  young  man, 
with  a  tone  of  conviction  which  there  was  no  mistaking; 

/ 


300  SULTANETTA. 

"  but  I  have  sworn  to  return  to  Derbend,  and  I  shall 
keep  my  oath." 

"  Tliat  is  your  final  decision  t  " 

"  It  is  final." 

"  Then,  Ammalat,  your  oath  must  be  the  more  quickly 
fulfilled.  I  have  known  you  a  long  time,  you  know  me 
also.  We  must  not  even  attempt  to  deceive  each  other. 
I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  I  liad  cherished  the 
hope  of  calling  you  my  son.  I  rejoiced  that  you  loved 
Sultanetta.  Your  captivity  weighed  on  my  heart,  your 
long  absence  was  one  of  the  sorrows  of  my  life.  At  last 
you  have  returned  to  the  house  of  the  khan,  and  you 
have  found  everything  as  before  your  departure.  But 
you  have  not  brought  us  your  heart  again.  It  is  sad; 
but  what  can  be  done  1  Ammalat,  I  would  never  accept 
a  slave  of  the  Russians  for  a  son-in-law  !  " 

"AckmethKhan!" 

**  Oh,  let  me  conclude.  Your  unexpected  arrival,  your 
grief  in  Sultanetta's  room,  your  exclamations,  your  sobs, 
your  despair,  exposed  to  all  the  world  your  love  and  our 
intentions.  Throughout  all  Avarie  you  are  known  as 
my  daughter's  betrothed ;  but,  now  that  the  tie  binding 
us  is  broken,  we  must  cut  short  all  these  supp)ositions ; 
for  the  sake  of  Sultanetta's  peace  of  mind,  for  her  repu- 
tation, you  must  leave  us  at  once.  Ammalat,  we  part 
still  friends,  but  we  shall  meet  only  as  kinsmen.  May 
Allah  in  his  goodness  change  your  heart,  and  permit  us 
to  see  you  again  as  an  inseparable  friend.  Tliat  is  my 
dearest  wish,  my  most  earnest  prayer;  but  until  then, 
adieu!" 

And,  tiiming  his  horse  face  about,  without  adding  a 
word  Ackmeth  Khan  set  off  at  full  speed. 

A  thunderbolt,  striking  at  Ammalat's  feet  and  opeii- 


SULTANETTA.  301 

ing  an  abyss,  could  not  have  overcome  him  more  than 
did  these  last  words  from  Ackmeth  Khan.  Motionless, 
thunderstruck,  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  breathlessly 
watching  horse  and  rider,  who  already  seemed  but  a 
cloud  of  dust. 

An  hour  later  he  was  still  on  the  same  spot;  but  by 
that  time  night  had  fallen. 

The  night  was  dark. 


302  SDLTAUETTA. 


XII. 


Ik  order  to  arrest  the  revolt  of  Daghestan,  Colonel 
Verkovsky  was  with  his  regiment  in  the  village  of 
Kjaflfir  Koumieck. 

The  tent  of  Aramalat  Beg  was  pitched  beside  that  of 
the  colonel. 

Sophyr  Ali,  the  young  foster-brother  of  Ammalat,  who 
appeared  in  the  beginning  of  this  story,  was  lying  within 
the  tent  and  drinking  by  the  glassful  that  foaming  wine 
called  the  champagne  of  the  Don. 

Colonel  Verkovsky  had  sent  for  the  young  man  to 
come  from  Tarki,  hoping  that  the  sight  of  him,  together 
with  his  friendship,  would  distract  Ammalat  Beg  from 
his  melancholy. 

In  fact,  Ammalat  Beg  was  more  than  melancholy,  he 
was  wrapped  in  gloom. 

Haggard,  pale,  brootling,  he  kept  within  the  seclusion 
of  his  tent,  lying  on  his  cushions  and  smoking. 

Three  months  previously,  driven,  like  the  first  sinner, 
from  Paradise,  he  had  come  to  rejoin  th^  colonel  and 
was  camping  with  his  regiment. 

In  sight  of  the  mountains  whither  his  heart  took  wing 
but  where  his  feet  were  forbidden,  he  preyed  upon  him- 
self ;  anger  flared  up  in  his  soul,  like  a  half-extinguished 
light,  at  the  first  word.  liancor,  like  a  slow  sure  poisou* 
spread  more  and  more  in  his  veins.  Bitterness  was  on 
his  lips,  hatred  in  his  eyes. 

"  In  faith, "  said  Sophyr  Ali,  "  wine  is  a  good  thing  I 
Since  we  are  forbidden  to  drink  it,  it  must  be  that  Ma* 


StJLTANETTA.  303 

hornet  got  hold  of  some  bad  wine.  Eeally,  these  drops 
are  so  sweet  one  can  believe  that  an  angel's  tears  fell 
into  the  bottle.  Take  a  glass  and  drink,  Ammalat.  Your 
heart  will  rise  on  the  wine  as  light  as  a  cork.  You  know 
what  Hafiz,  the  Persian  poet,  says  about  it." 

"  I  know  that  you  bore  me  to  death,  Sophyr  Ali. 
Then  let  me  hire  you  to  spare  me  this  nonsense,  charge 
it  up  to  Saadi  even,  as  well  as  Hafiz." 

"  Ammalat,  Ammalat,  you  are  very  hard  on  your  poor 
Sophyr  Ali.  What  would  come  of  it  if  he  were  as  hard 
on  you  ?  Does  n't  he  listen  patiently  when  you  talk  to 
him  of  Sultanetta  1  Love  makes  you  mad ;  with  me  it 
is  wine.  But  my  madness  has  lucid  intervals,  the  occa- 
sions when  I  am  not  drunk,  while  you  have  none;  you 
are  ever  in  love.     To  the  health  of  Sultanetta !  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  forbid  your  uttering 
her  name,  especially  when  you  are  drunk. " 

"  Then  here  's  to  the  health  of  the  Russians !  " 

Ammalat  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Well !  "  said  Sophyr  Ali ,  wiio  was  getting  inore  and 
more  tipsy,  "  you  will  be  forbidding  me  to  drink  the 
health  of  the  Russians  next !  " 

"  What  have  the  Russians  done  for  you  that  you  should 
love  them  so  much  ?  " 

"  What  have  they  done  to  you  that  you  should  hate 
them?" 

"  They  have  done  nothing  to  me,  but  I  have  observed 
them  close  at  hand.  They  are  no  better  than  we  Tar- 
tars. They  are  covetous,  back-biting,  idle.  How  long 
a  time  have  they  been  masters  here,  and  in  all  the  time 
of  their  mastership  what  good  have  they  done,  what  laws 
have  they  introduced,  what  learning  have  they  spread 
abroad  1  Verkovsky  has  opened  my  eyes  to  the  bad  side 
of  my  fellow-countrymen,  and  at  the  same  time  I  have 


304  SULTANETTA. 

seen  the  faults  of  his ;  and  their  defects  are  the  more 
unpardonable  in  them  because  they  have  grown  up  sur- 
rounded by  good  examples.  But  these  good  examples 
they  forget  here  for  the  sake  of  applying  themselves 
only  to  the  unclean  appetites  of  the  body." 

"  Ammalat,  Ammalat,  I  should  hope  that  you  would 
except  Verkovsky  at  least. " 

"  Of  course,  he  is  the  exception,  he  and  a  few  others ; 
but,  in  your  opinion,  even,  are  there  many  of  whom  we 
can  say  as  much  1  " 

"  Are  not  the  angels  of  heaven  to  bo  counted  too  t  No, 
no,  look  at  it:  Verkovsky  is  a  marvel  of  goodness.  You 
will  not  even  find  a  Tartar  who  speaks  ill  of  him.  Every 
soldier  would  give  his  soul  for  him.  —  Abdul  Amid,  more 
wine  I  —  To  the  health  of  Verkovsky,  Ammalat !  " 

"  Just  now  I  would  not  drink  the  health  of  Mahomet, 
even." 

"  Why,  if  your  heart  were  not  as  black  as  the  eyes  of 
your  Sultanetta,  you  would  drink  Verkovsky's  health. 
Ammalat,  were  this  to  reach  the  beard  of  the  mufti  of 
Derbend,  every  imam  and  all  the  prophets  would  be  up 
in  arms  against  you!  " 

"  Let  me  alone. " 

"  It  is  not  right,  Ammalat.  I  would  raise  the  devil 
with  my  own  blood  for  you,  and  you,  you,  —  out  upon 
you  I  you  refuse  to  take  a  drop  of  wine  with  me. " 

"No,  Sophyf  Ali,  I  will  not  take  it,  and  I  will  not 
take  it,  because  I  do  not  want  it ;  and  I  do  not  want  it,  do 
you  hear  ?  because  my  blood  is  already  too  hot  as  it  is. " 

"  A  mere  excuse,  and  a  poor  excuse  at  that !  It  is  not 
our  first  drink,  is  it  f  Not  the  first  time  our  blood  baa 
boiled  1  Wonderful  stuff,  Asiatic  blood !  Speak  out,  be 
frank,  you  have  a  gnidge  against  the  colonel  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  I  have." 


SULTANETTA.  306 

"  And  can  one  know  why  1 " 

"  Why  1  " 

"Yes." 

"  For  many  reasons." 

"But  one?" 

"  For  some  time  now  he  has  been  pouring  poison  into 
the  honey  of  his  friendship.  Now,  the  poison  that  lie 
has  let  fall  drop  by  drop,  drop  by  drop,  has  filled  the  cup ; 
and  behold  the  cup  is  running  over.  I  hate  friends  that 
are  too  solicitous ;  they  are  good  for  advice,  —  that  is,  for 
what  involves  them  in  neither  trouble  nor  risk." 

"  I  see ;  he  did  not  let  you  return  to  Avarie,  and  you 
cannot  forgive  him  for  refusing. " 

"  If  you  had  my  heart  in  your  breast,  Sophyr  Ali,  you 
would  understand  the  cruelty  of  such  a  refusal.  Ack- 
meth  Khan  has  softened,  it  seems :  he  asks  to  see  me, 
and  I  cannot  go  to  him.  Oh !  Sultanetta  !  Sultanetta  !  " 
cried  the  young  man,  wringing  his  hands  in  his  anger. 

"For  my  part,  I  say,  put  yourself  in  Verkovsky's 
place,  and  tell  me  frankly  whether  you  would  not  have 
done  as  he  is  doing." 

"  No.  From  the  beginning,  I  should  have  said : 
*  Ammalat,  do  not  count  on  me ;  Ammalat,  do  not  ask 
me  to  help  you  in  anything.'  I  do  not  desire  his  help; 
only  that  he  should  not  hinder  me.  No,  he  stands  be- 
tween me  and  the  sun  of  my  happiness.  He  does  it  out 
of  friendship,  he  says ;  he  asks  me  to  let  him  direct  my 
life,  — he  gives  me  poppy-juice  to  put  me  to  sleep!  " 

"What  matters  the  remedy,  Ammalat,  provided  that 
it  cures  you  1  " 

"  And  who  asks  him  to  cure  me,  pray  ?  The  divine 
malady  of  love,  the  only  one  of  which  one  could  wish  to 
die,  is  my  sole  happiness,  my  only  joy.  If  he  takes  that 
from  me,  my  heart  will  follow." 

20 


306  8ULTANETTA. 

When  Ammalat  finished  speaking,  night  had  already 
fallen,  and  yet  he  could  see  that  the  presence  of  a  stranger 
at  the  door  of  his  tent  was  rendering  the  darkness  more 
obscure. 

"  Who  is  there  1 "  demanded  Ammalat. 

**  Is  any  one  bringing  my  wine  t  "  said  Sophyr  Ali. 
"  My  bottle  is  empty." 

The  shadow  drew  near  without  any  response. 

"  Wlio  is  there  1  "  repeated  Ammalat,  laying  his  hand 
on  his  kandjiar. 

A  name  uttered  in  a  tone  so  low  that  it  was  breathed 
in  his  ear  like  a  sigh,  caused  Ammalat  Beg  to  tremble : 

«  Nephtali ! " 

At  the  same  time  the  shadow  withdrew  and  left  the 
tent. 

Ammalat  Beg  bounded  to  his  feet,  and  followed  the 
form  scarcely  visible  through  the  darkness. 

Sophyr  Ali  followed  Ammalat. 

The  night  was  gloomy,  the  fires  were  out^  the  line  of 
sentinels  was  at  a  distance. 

Finally,  the  form  lialted. 

"  Is  it  really  you,  Nephtali  t  "  asked  Ammalat. 

"Speak  low,  Ammalat,"  answered  the  other;  "I  am 
not  a  friend  of  the  Russians  myself. " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Ammalat,  "  you  too,  you  have  come  here 
to  reproach  me  t  I  should  have  thought  you  had  a  kinder 
mission  for  your  brother." 

He  extended  his  hand. 

Nephtali  took  Ammalat's  hand  and  pressed  it  con' 
vulsively. 

In  the  young  mountaineer's  friendship  for  Ammalat, 
was  something  which  the  latter  could  not  explain ;  one 
would  have  said  that  the  Tchetchen  was  constrained  to 
do  violence  to  himself  in  order  to  love  Ammalat 


SULTANETTA.  307 

"Speak,"  insisted  Ammalat;  "what  news  do  you 
bring  ?     How  is  Ackmeth  Khan  1     Is  Sultanetta  well  t  " 

"  Ammalat, "  said  Nephtali,  "  I  am  not  sent  to  answer 
your  questions,  but  to  question  you.  Will  you  follow 
meV 

«  Where  1  " 

"  Where  I  am  charged  to  conduct  you.* 

"What  shall  I  do  there?" 

"  You  know  from  whom  I  come  1  " 

«  No." 
^  "  *  The  eagle  loves  the  mountain.'  " 

Ammalat  recognized  Ackmeth  Khan's  favorite  saying. 

"  You  come  from  the  khan  1  "  said  he. 

"  Will  you  follow  me,  Ammalat  t  " 

"How  far?" 

"  Four  versts  from  here." 

"  Must  we  go  on  foot  ?  " 

"  Are  you  at  liberty  to  leave  the  camp  on  horseback  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But,  that  I  may  not  arouse  suspicion,  I  must 
notify  the  colonel." 

"  That  is,  you  can  go  the  length  of  your  chain,  but  not 
leave  it.     Notify  the  colonel." 

"  Sophyr  Ali,  tell  the  colonel  that  we  are  going,  for 
diversion,  on  a  jaunt  into  the  country.  Get  my  gun  and 
saddle  my  horse." 

Sophyr  Ali  sighed;  but,  as  his  bottle  was  empty,  it 
was  the  less  difficult  to  obey.  In  a  little  while  they 
heard  the  step  of  two  horses. 

It  was  Sophyr  Ali  riding  one  horse,  and  leading 
Ammalat's. 

"  Here, "  said  he,  "  take  your  gun ;  I  have  renewed  the 
priming.     It  is  in  good  condition;  you  can  rest  easy." 

"  And  why  do  you  come  ?  " 

"  Because  the  colonel  asked  me  if  I  was  going,  and  I 


308  SULTAN  ETTA. 

told  him  yes,  and  now  if  they  saw  you  leaving  without 
me  it  would  look  suspicious." 

Ammalat  comprehended  the  young  man's  motive :  he 
had  not  meant  to  leave  him  alone  in  the  dark  with  a 
stranger. 

Nephtali  was  unknown  to  Sophyr  Ali,  although  Sophyr 
Ali  had  heard  his  name. 

"  Can  he  come  with  usf  "  asked  Ammalat  of  Nephtali. 

"Yes,  and  no." 

**  Explain  yourself." 

"Yes,  as  far  as  to  the  entrance  of  the  camp;  no,  to 
the  rendezvous." 

"  Come, "  said  Ammalat  to  Sophyr  Ali. 

And  he  sprang  on  his  horse. 

**  And  you  t  "  demanded  he  of  Nephtali 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  Ammalat;  I  came  into  camp 
without  you,  and  I  am  very  well  able  to  leave  it  without 
you." 

"  Whore  shall  I  find  you  again  1 " 

"  It  is  not  for  you  to  find  me ;  it  is  for  me  to  find  yoxL** 

And  Nephtali  was  lost  in  the  darkness,  making  no 
more  noise  than  a  ghost. 

Ammalat  and  Sophyr  Ali  headed  for  the  first  sentinel, 
gave  the  password  and  went  on. 

Every  evening,  the  password  was  communicated  to 
Ammalat  by  Colonel  Verkovsky.  It  was  a  delicate  atten- 
tion from  the  latter,  although  Ammalat  well  understooil 
tliat  he  was  only  a  prisoner  on  parole. 

Twenty  paces  lieyond  the  sentinel,  Ammalat  trembled 
in  spite  of  himself.  A  tliird  horseman  was  advancing 
beside  them.  He  had  arisen  without  any  one's  knowing 
whence  he  came.  He  might  have  issued  from  the 
ground. 

"  Ha  I  "  ejaculated  Sophyr  Ali ;  "  who  goes  there  f  " 


SULTANETTA.  309 

"  Silence  !  "  said  Nephtali. 

"  Silence  !  "  repeated  Ammalat  Beg. 

Sophyr  Ali  held  his  tongue,  but  not  without  mutter- 
ing ;  the  second  bottle,  abandoned  just  as  it  was  about  to 
be  brought,  stuck  in  his  crop.  At  every  step  he  grew 
angry,  at  the  darkness,  at  the  bushes,  at  the  ditches.  He 
coughed,  spat,  swore,  in  the  hope  of  making  one  or  the 
other  of  his  companions  say  something;  but  it  was  use- 
less: both  remained  dumb. 

Finally,  after  a  pause,  his  horse  stumbled  against  a 
stone. 

"  The  devil  take  our  guide,  who,  for  that  matter,  looks 
very  much  as  if  he  had  come  in  his  own  interests !  Who 
knows  where  he  is  taking  us  1  He  is  capable  of  leading 
us  into  some  trap." 

"  There  is  no  danger, "  answered  Ammalat ;  "  he  is  a 
messenger  from  a  friend  and  is  himself  my  friend." 

"  Oh !  yes,  that  is  quite  possible ;  you  have  made 
many  new  friends  since  we  took  leave  of  each  other, 
Ammalat.  —  May  the  new  be  as  devoted  to  you  as  the 
old ! " 

They  had  left  the  main  road  and  had  plunged  into  a 
sort  of  undergrowth  of  those  shrubs  with  the  obstinate 
thorns,  known  to  every  traveller  in  the  Caucasus. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  king  of  Spirits, "  said  Sophyr  Ali 
to  his  guide,  "  tell  us  quickly  whether  you  are  in  league 
with  these  bushes  to  get  the  galloon  off  my  tchouska. 
Don't  you  know  a  better  road  ?  I  am  neither  a  snake 
nor  a  fox." 

Nephtali  halted. 

"  You  are  in  luck, "  said  he.  "  Your  journey  is  ended; 
stay  here  and  hold  the  horses." 

"  And  Ammalat  ?  "  said  Sophyr  Ali. 

"Ammalat  goes  with  me," 


310  8ULTANETTA. 

"Wheret" 

"To  mind  his  own  business,  apparently." 

**  Ammalat, "  cried  Sophyr  Ali,  "  will  you  go  without 
me  into  tlie  mountain  with  this  bandit  1 " 

"  "Which  means, "  replied  Ammalat,  dismounting,  "  that 
you  do  not  care  to  remain  alone." 

He  tossed  the  bridle  over  the  other's  arm. 

"  As  for  that, "  said  Sophyr  Ali,  "  I  would  a  himdred 
times  rather  be  alone  here  than  in  the  company  of  the 
knave  that  came  for  you." 

"  You  will  not  be  alone, "  said  Ammalat  Beg,  smiling ; 
**  I  leave  you  in  delightful  company,  that  of  the  wolves 
and  jackals.    There,  do  you  hear  them  singing  t  Listen  !  " 

"  Gk>d  trust  that  I  shall  not  have  to  get  your  bones 
away  from  those  songsters  to-morrow  morning,"  said 
Sophyr  Ali. 

They  separated. 

As  he  went  away  Ammalat  heard  Sophyr  Ali  loading 
his  gun  by  way  of  precaution  at  all  events. 

Nephtali  led  Ammalat  through  the  thicket  as  readily 
as  if  it  had  been  broad  daylight.  One  would  have  thought 
the  young  Tchetchen  possessed  the  power,  accorded  by 
nature  to  certain  animals^  of  seeing  as  well  by  night  as 
by  day. 

After  a  demi-verst  through  bushes  and  over  stones,  the 
road  began  to  descend ;  finally,  after  a  very  difficult  pas- 
sage the  road  became  a  little  better,  and  they  reached  the 
entrance  of  a  recess,  in  the  depths  of  which  a  brushwood 
fire  was  burning. 

Ackmeth  Khan  was  reclining  beside  the  fire,  his  gun 
across  his  knees. 

At  the  noise  made  by  the  two  young  men,  he  raised 
himself  upon  his  bourka. 

By  the  quickness  of  the  movement,  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  he  waited  impatiently. 


SULTANETTA.  311 

Recognizing  Aramalat,  he  stood  up. 

Ammalat  cast  himself  upon  his  neck. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Aramalat, "  said  the  khan, 
"  and  I  am  weak  enough  not  to  conceal  the  feeling  from 
you.  But  I  hasten  to  say  that  it  is  not  for  a  simple  in- 
terview that  I  have  put  you  to  this  inconvenience.  Be 
seated,  Ammalat,  and  let  us  talk  of  a  serious  matter. " 

"Forme,  khanl" 

"  For  both  of  us.  I  was  your  father's  friend,  and 
there  was  a  time  when  I  was  yours. " 

"  Is  the  time  gone  by,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  It  depended  on  you  that  it  should  last  forever. 
You  did  not  desire  it ;  or  rather,  no,  it  was  not  you  who 
did  not  desire  it. " 

"Who,  then?" 

"  That  demon  of  a  Verkovsky." 

"  Khan,  you  do  not  know  him. " 

"  You  are  the  one  who  do  not  know  him,  but  you  very 
soon  will,  I  hope.     Meanwhile  let  us  speak  of  Sultanetta." 

Ammalat's  heart  gave  a  bound. 

"  You  know  that  I  desired  to  make  her  your  wife, 
Ammalat;  you  refused  the  conditions  on  which  I  could 
give  her  to  you.  We  will  talk  no  more  of  that;  I  pre- 
sume that  you  reflected  as  a  man  must  do  on  serious 
occasions  in  life.  But  you  will  understand  one  thing: 
she  cannot,  and  moreover  must  not,  remain  unmarried. 
It  would  be  a  dishonor  to  my  house." 

Ammalat  felt  the  perspiration  beading  his  forehead. 

"  Ammalat, "  continued  Ackmeth  Khan,  "  her  hand 
has  been  demanded." 

Ammalat  felt  his  knees  give  way;  the  heart  in  his 
breast  almost  ceased  to  beat. 

Finally  his  voice  returned. 

"  And  who  is  this  bold  wooer  1 "  he  demanded. 


312  8ULTANETTA. 

**  The  second  son  of  Clmmkal  Abdul  Moussaline.  After 
you  he  is  certainly,  of  all  the  mountain  princes,  the  most 
worthy  to  become  the  husband  of  Sultanetta." 

"  After  me  t "  said  Ammalat.  "  But,  by  Mahomet, 
it  strikes  me  that  you  talk  as  if  I  were  dead;  has 
my  memory  then  quite  died  out  of  the  hearts  of  mj 
friends?" 

"  No,  Ammalat,  your  memory  has  not  died  out  of  my 
heart,  and  just  now  I  confessed  to  you  yourself  that  I 
was  glad  to  see  you ;  but  be  as  frank  as  I  am  sincere ;  I 
leave  you  to  judge  your  own  cause;  what  more  do  you 
wish  t  What  more  do  you  exact  t  What  must  we  do, 
what  can  we  dot  You  will  not  leave  the  Russians;  I 
myself  cannot  become  their  friend." 

"  Yes,  it  is  possible.  You  have  only  to  desire,  only  to 
say  the  word,  and  all  will  be  forgotten,  all  will  be  over- 
looked. I  will  wager  my  head  upon  it,  and  can  answer 
on  the  word  of  Verkovsky ;  it  would  be  the  best  thing 
for  you,  for  tlie  peace  of  the  Avares,  for  Sultanetta's 
happiness,  for  mine.  Oh !  I  beg  of  you,  I  beseech  you, 
I  implore  you  on  my  knees,  on  my  knees !  Ackmeth 
Khan,  be  the  friend  of  the  Russians,  and  everything, 
even  your  rank,  will  be  restored  to  you." 

"  You  answer  for  the  lives  of  others,  you  who  are  not 
even  the  master  of  your  own  liberty  I  " 

"  Who  wants  my  life,  who  frets  about  my  liberty, 
when  I  spurn  them  myself  ?  " 

"  Who  wants  your  life,  child  that  you  are  t  Do  you 
think  that  the  pillow  under  Chamkal  Tarkovsky's  head 
does  not  turn  of  itself  when  he  thinks  of  you  as  the  heir 
to  his  principality  of  Tarki,  and  that  you  are  the  friend 
of  the  Russians  t" 

**  I  have  never  sought  his  friendship,  I  have  never 
feared  him  as  an  enemy." 


SULTANETTA.  313 

"  Fear  not,  but  despise  not,  Ammalat.  Do  you  know 
that  an  envoy  has  been  sent  to  ^Yermolof  to  tell  him 
to  kill  you  for  a  traitor?  Formerly,  he  would  have 
killed  you  with  a  kiss,  if  it  had  been  possible ;  but  now 
that  you  have  sent  back  his  daughter,  your  father-in- 
law  no  longer  hides  his  wrath,  and  he  will  use  ball  or 
poniard. " 

"  Under  Verkovsky's  protection,  no  one  can  reach  me, 
except  an  assassin.     From  assassins,  Allah  save  me!  " 

"  Listen,  Ammalat,  I  will  tell  you  a  fable.  A  sheep, 
pursued  by  wolves,  fled  into  a  kitchen.  He  found  shel- 
ter there,  was  well  lodged,  well  fed;  he  loudly  boasted 
of  the  care  that  was  taken  of  him,  and  he  had  never 
been  so  happy. 

"  Three  days  later,  he  was  roasted  ! 

"  Ammalat,  that  is  your  story. 

"  It  is  time  that  I  open  your  eyes.  The  man  whom 
you  call  the  first  among  your  friends  has  betrayed  you 
first.  You  are  surrounded  by  traitors,  Ammalat.  My 
principal  desire  in  summoning  you  to  an  interview  was  to 
forewarn  you.  When  Sultanetta's  hand  was  asked,  I 
was  given  to  understand,  on  behalf  of  the  chamkal,  that 
through  him  I  could  become  a  friend  of  the  Russians 
much  more  safely  than  through  Ammalat,  who  was  now 
an  object  of  distrust  even  with  those  who  are  answer- 
able for  him.  Besides,  those  who  are  answerable  for 
you  will  very  soon  be  rid  of  you.  They  will  put  you 
out  of  the  way  where  you  are  no  longer  to  be  feared.  I 
have  suspected  much,  and  have  learned  more  than  I 
suspected.  To-day,  I  stopped  a  noukar  of  the  chamkal's ; 
he  was  sent  to  Verkovsky,  under  some  pretext  of  which 
I  know  nothing,  about  which  I  am  not  concerned.  What 
does  trouble  me  is  that  the  chamkal  gives  six  thousand 
roubles  to  the  one  who  will  kill  you.     Verkovsky  is  not 


S14  SULTANETTA. 

eonoemed  in  that,  of  course ;  but,  master  of  the  chamkal, 
he  is  not  the  master  of  his  government.  You  are  guilty 
of  treason.  After  swearing  fealty  to  the  Russians,  you 
have  been  taken  in  arms.  Tliey  spare  your  life,  perhaps ; 
but  something,  indeed,  must  be  done  with  you.  You  are 
to  be  sent  to  Siberia. " 

"  I  ?  "  cried  Ammalat. 

"  Listen,  and  see  if  I  am  not  well  informed.  To-mor- 
row the  regiment  returns  to  its  quarters;  to-morrow 
a  meeting,  at  which  you  and  your  fate  will  be  dis. 
cussed  at  great  length,  will  be  held  in  your  own  house  at 
Bouinaky.  They  will  prepare  denunciations  against  you 
and  get  together  a  certain  number  of  complaints.  They 
will  poison  you  with  your  own  bread,  Ammalat,  and 
fasten  an  iron  chain  around  your  neck  while  promising 
you  mountains  of  gold." 

If  Ackmeth  Khan  desired  to  see  Ammalat  suffer,  he 
had  that  sorry  pleasure  during  all  the  time  that  he  was 
talking.  Every  word,  like  a  sharpened  red-hot  iron, 
stabbed  the  young  beg's  heart;  all  his  beliefs  were 
destroyed,  if  the  half  of  what  the  khan  said  was  true. 
He  repeatedly  endeavored  to  interrupt  him,  to  answer 
him;  each  time  the  words  died  on  his  lips.  The  wild 
beast  that,  tamed  by  Verkovsky,  lay  sleeping  within 
Ammalat,  gradually  became  aroused  by  the  words  of 
Ackmeth  Khan ;  already  it  shook  its  chain,  a  little  more 
and  the  chain  would  break. 

At  last  a  torrent  of  threats  and  curses  escaped  from 
the  young  man's  mouth. 

"Ah!  if  you  are  not  lying,"  cried  he,  **ahl  if  you 
are  telling  the  truth,  Ackmeth  Khan,  woe  to  them  that 
have  abused  my  good  faith  and  taken  advantage  of  my 
gratitude  I  Let  me  have  proof  of  what  you  say,  and 
then  revenge,  revenge !  " 


SULTANETTA.  315 

'*  That  is  the  first  word  worthy  of  you  that  has  left 
your  mouth,  Ammalat, "  said  Khan  Ackmeth,  not  even 
attempting  to  conceal  his  joy  at  the  wrath  of  the  young 
prince.  "  You  have  bowed  your  head  too  long  at  the 
feet  of  the  Russians.  It  is  time  for  the  eagle  to  spread 
his  wings  and  fly  above  the  clouds.  You  will  have  a 
better  view  of  your  enemies  from  up  there.  Give  them 
vengeance  for  vengeance,  death  for  death !  " 

"  Oh !  yes  !  "  replied  Ammalat ;  "  death  to  the  chamkal 
who  bargains  for  my  life  !  Death  to  Abdul  Moussaline, 
who  puts  out  his  hand  for  my  treasure !  " 

"  Yes,  death  to  them,  by  all  means !  but  do  not  lose  sight 
of  another  enemy  whom  you  are  omitting  from  your  ven- 
geance, and  who  threatens  your  destiny  in  quite  another 
way  from  either  of  those  whom  you  have  just  named." 

A  chill  ran  through  Ammalat's  veins. 

"  You  mean  Verkovsky  ? "  said  he,  drawing  back  in 
spite  of  himself.  "  You  are  wrong,  Khan  Ackmeth ;  he 
cannot  desire  my  death  Avho  saved  me  from  death,  —  and 
such  a  death !  an  infamous  death  !  " 

"  To  give  you  over  to  an  infamous  life,  Ammalat.  And, 
for  that  matter,  have  you  not  saved  his  life  too,  —  once 
from  the  attacks  of  a  wild  boar,  again,  from  a  Lesghian's 
poniard  ?  Balance  your  accounts  properly,  Ammalat,  and 
Verkovsky  is  the  one  in  debt." 

"  No,  no,  Ackmeth  Khan, "  said  the  young  man,  vio- 
lently striking  his  breast  with  his  hand ;  "  no  !  a  voice 
speaking  louder  than  yours  tells  me  that  I  am  not  at 
quits  with  Verkovsky;  it  is  the  voice  of  conscience." 

Ackmeth  Khan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Conscience !  conscience  !  "  muttered  he.  "  Come, 
Ammalat,  I  see  clearly  that  without  me  you  will  not 
know  how  to  set  about  anything,  not  even  to  marry  Sut 
tanetta.     Then,  listen :  — 


316  8ULTANETTA. 

"  Of  the  one  who  wishes  to  become  my  son-in-law,  the 
first,  tlie  last,  the  only  thing  I  ask,  in  exchange  for 
which  he  will  secure  the  hand  of  Sultanetta,  is  the  life 
of  Verkovsky.  Verkovsky  is  the  head  of  Daghestan. 
Let  that  head  fall  and  the  whole  of  Daghestan  is  decapi- 
tated. I  have  two  thousand  men  ready  to  rise  at  a  word 
from  me.  With  them,  I  can  descend  like  an  avalanche 
upon  Tarki ;  and  supposing  that  you  should  be  the  one 
to  merit  Sultanetta's  hand,  it  would  make  you  not  only 
the  chamkal  of  Tarki,  but  of  the  whole  of  Daghestan  as 
well.  Your  fate  is  in  your  own  hands  as  it  has  never 
been  in  another  man's.  Choose :  either  a  prison  —  eter- 
nal exile  in  Siberia,  at  least  —  or  happiness  with  Siil- 
tanetta,  power  with  me.  After  all,  perhaps  I  have 
judged  you  ill  and  you  have  neither  ambition  nor  love 
in  your  heart.  And  now,  farewell !  but  remember  that 
the  first,  the  only  time  that  we  meet  again,  it  will  be  as 
devoted  kinsmen  or  as  mortal  enemies." 

And  Ackmeth  Khan  disappeared  before  Ammalat  had 
time  to  think  of  detaining  him. 

He  remained  a  long  time  motionless  and  silent,  with 
his  head  drooped  over  his  breast.  Finally,  he  raised 
himself,  looked  about,  and  saw  Nephtali  waiting  for 
him. 

Without  a  word,  the  young  Tchetchen  led  him  to 
where  Sophyr  Ali  was  awaiting  him  with  the  two  horses. 
Ammalut  silently  extended  a  hand  to  him  in  token  of 
thanks,  and  left  him  without  even  pronouncing  the  name 
of  Sultanetta. 

Then,  silent  still,  he  mounted  his  horse,  regained  the 
camp,  entered  his  tent,  and  flung  himself  upon  hia  couch. 

Then  only  did  he  turn  and  writhe  with  stifled  cries 
and  moans. 

All  the  serpents  of  hell  were  let  loose  in  his  heart. 


SULTANETTA.  317 


XIII. 

"  Son  of  a  she-wolf,  will  you  be  still  ?  "  an  old  woman 
was  saying  to  her  grandson,  awakened  and  crying  before 
day.  "  Be  still,  or  I  will  send  you  out  in  the  street  to 
sleep." 

The  old  Tartar  woman  had  been  Ammalat's  nurse. 
Her  house  was  built  near  the  beg's  palace.  It  was  a 
present  from  her  foster-child. 

We  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  in  the  first  chapter  of  this 
story,  watching  the  prowess  of  Ammalat  Beg. 

This  house  to  which  we  are  conducting  our  readers, 
one-storied  and  surmounted  by  a  terrace  like  all  Tartar 
houses,  consisted  of  two  rooms  neatly  arranged.  The 
floor  was  carpeted.  The  corners  were  occupied  by  cliests, 
bright  with  decorations  of  ironwork,  on  which  were 
rolled  up  some  feather  beds  with  their  blankets,  symbols 
of  competence  in  Tartar  homes.  On  shelves  suspended 
against  the  wall  was  an  array  of  tin-plated  pilaflf-cups 
shining  like  silver.  The  old  woman's  face  was  stamped 
with  the  constant  bad-humor  which  is  the  bitter  fruit  oi 
a  sad  and  solitary  life,  and,  like  the  worthy  representa- 
tive of  her  compatriots  that  she  was,  she  never  ceased  to 
scold  and  grumble  at  her  grandson,  at  the  top  of  her  voice 
and  from  morning  till  night. 

"  Keep  still,  Kesse  !  "  she  cried  again,  "  or  I  will  hand 
you  over  to  five  hundred  thousand  devils!  Don't  you 
hear  the  noise  they  make  on  the  roof,  and  how  they  are 
scratching  on  the  window-panes  to  get  at  you  ?  " 


Sl8  SULTANETTA. 

The  night  was  dark,  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents. 
The  storm  beat  on  the  terrace  and  against  the  windows, 
and  the  wind  swirling  through  the  chinmey  sounded  like 
wailing  sobs  accompanying  nature's  tears. 

The  little  boy  stopped  crying,  and,  opening  his  great 
eyes  with  their  black  lashes,  he  listened  fearfully  to  the 
divers  noises  of  the  tempest. 

But  a  noise  more  terrifying  began  to  mingle  vrith  this 
uproar,  and  in  spite  of  tlie  advanced  hour  of  the  night  — 
it  was  almost  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  —  there  was  a 
knocking  at  the  door. 

And  then  it  was  the  old  woman's  turn  to  be  frightened. 

Her  bosom  friend,  an  old  black  dog,  lifted  his  head 
and  plaintively  howled. 

The  knocking  was  redoubled,  and,  in  tones  of  dis- 
tinguishable anger,  an  unknown  voice  cried,  — 

**  Atch  Kaninii !  Akhirine!  Akhirisi!  Will  you  ever 
open  the  door  t  " 

"  AlUih  bismillah  I  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  first 
looking  at  the  ceiling,  then  kicking  her  dog,  then  trying 
to  calm  the  little  boy ,  who  had  begun  to  cry  again.  "  Wlio 
is  there?  Wl»o  can  be  knocking  at  this  hourt  What 
well-meaning  man  would  come  on  such  a  night  and 
knock  at  a  poor  old  woman's  doort  Are  you  the  devil  t 
Then  go  to  neighbor  Kachtkina's.  It  is  time  to  show 
her  the  road  to  hell.  But  if  you  are  not  the  devil  in 
person,  be  ofif !  My  son  is  not  at  home,  if  you  happen 
to  have  business  with  him.  He  is  with  Ammalat  Beg. 
As  for  me,  the  beg  has  retired  me ;  and  so  you  cannot  be 
coming  from  him.  I  owe  him  neither  ducks,  nor  liens, 
nor  eggs ;  he  has  freed  ine  from  all  rent.  Dame  !  You 
may  be  sure  that  I  did  not  bring  him  up  for  nothing." 

"  You  besom  of  hell,  will  you  open  the  door  for  me  t  ** 
cried  the  impatient  voice ;  "  if  not,  I  will  splinter  your 


SULTANETTA.  319 

door  so  that  not  a  board  shall  be  left  to  make  you  a 
coffin." 

"  You  are  welcome,  you  are  welcome, "  said  the  old 
woman,  hastening  to  the  door  and  opening  it  with  trem- 
bling hand. 

The  door  swung  on  its  hinges,  and  a  man  short  of 
stature,  but  with  a  handsome  yet  gloomy  countenance, 
appeared  on  the  threshold. 

He  wore  the  Circassian  costume.  The  water  streamed 
from  his  bachlik  and  his  white  b9urka.  He  threw  the 
latter  on  the  woman's  bed  without  ceremony,  and  began 
to  unfasten  the  bachlik  which  concealed  his  face. 
Fatma,  in  the  meantime,  lighted  her  candle  and  stood 
before  the  new-comer,  trembling  in  every  joint.  The 
dog,  taking  his  tail  between  his  legs,  thrust  himself  into 
a  corner;  and  the  little  boy  betook  himself  to  the  fire- 
place, which,  never  having  a  fire  in  it,  was  rather  an 
ornament  than  a  useful  piece  of  architecture. 

"Well,  Fatma,"  said  the  new-comer,  when  he  had 
finished  taking  off  his  bachlik,  "  you  have  grown  proud, 
it  seems ;  you  do  not  recognize  an  old  friend  ?  " 

Fatma  regarded  the  stranger  curiously,  and  an  expres- 
sion of  relief  overspread  her  face. 

She  recognized  Ackmeth  Khan,  who,  during  this  stormy 
night,  had  come  from  Kjaffir  Koumieck  to  Bouinaky. 

"  May  the  sand  blind  my  wicked  eyes  for  not  having 
known  their  old  master !  "  said  the  crone,  crossing  her 
hands  on  her  breast  in  token  of  submission  and  re- 
spect. "  To  tell  the  truth,  khan,  they  are  put  out  by 
the  tears  that  I  have  shed  for  my  country,  —  for  poor 
Avarie.  Forgive  the  unhappy  Fatma,  khan;  she  is  old, 
and  old  age  does  not  see  much  at  night  besides  the  grave 
that  death  is  digging  for  it." 

"  Come,  come,  you  are  not  so  old  as  you  make  out, 


320  SULTANETTA. 

Fatma.  T  remember,  child,  to  have  seen  you  as  a  young 
girl  at  Khunsack." 

"  The  strange  country  ages  the  stranger, "  responded 
Fatma.  "  In  our  mountains,  khan,  I  should  still  perliaps 
be  fruit  worth  culling ;  but  here  I  am  a  wretched  hand- 
ful of  snow  tlung  from  the  mountain  into  the  mud  of 
these  streets.  Sit  here,  khan;  sit  on  this  cushion,  you 
will  be  more  comfortable.  But  how  can  I  regale  my 
dear  guest  7     Does  the  khan  need  anything  t  " 

"  The  khan  desires  you  to  regale  him  with  your  good- 
wiU,  that  is  all." 

"  I  am  in  your  power,  khan,  you  know  it  well.  Com- 
mand, then,  give  your  orders;  it  is  for  your  servant  to 
obey." 

"  Listen,  Fatma,  I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  talk.  In 
few  words,  this  is  why  I  am  here :  Do  me  a  service  with 
your  tongue,  and  I  will  rejoice  your  teeth.  I  will 
give  you  ten  sheep  if  you  do  what  I  tell  you,  and  I 
will  clothe  you  in  silk  from  head  to  foot,  slippers  in- 
cluded." 

**  Ten  sheep  and  a  silken  gown !  Oh,  my  good  chief  1 
oh,  my  dear  khan  !  Never  has  such  a  guest  entered  my 
house  since  I  was  captured  by  those  cursed  Tartars,  and 
was  married  here  against  my  will.  For  a  silken  robe  and 
ten  sheep,  you  can  do  what  you  will,  you  may  even  cut 
oflf  one  of  my  ears." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  cut  off  your  ears,  woman ;  no, 
it  Lb  better  that  you  should  use  them.  This  is  what  I 
wish:  Ammalat  will  visit  you  to-<lay  with  the  colonel. 
Do  you  know  the  colonel  ?  " 

"  Allah  !     I  should  think  so,  — our  mortal  enemy." 

"  That  he  is!  Chamkal  Tnrkovsky  will  be  with  them. 
The  colonel  is  Ammalat's  friend.  He  is  making  him 
drink  wine  and  eat  pig !  " 


SULTANETTA.  321 

"  The  child  that  sucked  my  milk  1  "  cried  the  old 
mountain  woman  with  horror. 

"  Yes.  If  we  are  not  on  guard,  before  three  days 
Ammalat  will  be  a  Christian." 

"Mahomet  save  him!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  as 
she  spat  and  threw  up  her  hands. 

"  To  save  Ammalat  from  everlasting  damnation,  you 
see,  woman,  we  must  embroil  him  with  his  Verkovsky. " 

"  Am  I  to  take  a  hand  in  that,  khan  ?  As  true  as 
that  I  am  your  servant  and  Allah's,  I  will  do  it." 

"  Yes,  pay  attention. "  - 

"  I  am  not  losing  a  syllable,  khan." 

The  old  woman's  eyes  glittered  with  fanaticism. 

"  You  are  to  throw  yourself  at  his  feet,  to  weep  as  if 
at  the  funeral  of  your  own  son.  You  will  not  need  to 
borrow  tears  from  your  neighbors;  you  love  Ammalat 
well  enough  to  weep  for  the  loss  of  his  soul.  You  will 
tell  him  that  you  have  overheard  a  conversation  between 
the  colonel  and  the  chamkal ;  tliat  the  latter  complained 
of  Ammalat's  having  sent  back  his  daughter;  that  he 
said  he  hated  him  because  of  his  principality  of  Tarkov- 
sky,  in  connection  with  which  Ammalat  believed  himself 
to  have  some  rights.  You  will  say  that  the  chamkal 
begged  the  colonel  to  permit  him  to  take  Ammalat's  life." 

"  And  I  shall  add  that  the  colonel  consented  ?  " 

"No,  old  woman, "  quickly  returned  the  khan;  "he 
would  not  believe  you.  Say,  on  the  contrary,  that  the 
colonel  was  indignant  and  had  answered  —  Listen  now ; 
understand  me  well. " 

"I  am  listening,  and  I  shall  understand;  never  fear." 

"  And  say  that  the  colonel  answered :  '  All  that  I  can 
possibly  do  for  you,  chamkal  —  and  that  only  on  condi- 
tion that  you  will  faithfully  serve  the  Russians  —  is  to 
send  him  to  Siberia.'  " 

31 


922  SULTANETTA. 

"To  Siberia!" 

*'  Come  now,  repeat  what  I  have  said." 

The  old  woman  had  a  good  memory,  and  repeated  it 
word  for  word.  But,  for  the  greater  security,  the  khan 
required  her  to  repeat  it  a  second  time. 

"  Now, "  pursued  tlie  khan,  "  embroider  that  as  much 
as  you  like.  You  are  celebrated  for  your  tales.  But 
don't  get  your  mouth  full  of  mud  now,  speak  clearly, 
and  add  as  proof  of  what  you  advance  that  the  colonel 
means  to  take  him  to  Georgievsk,  to  get  him  away  from 
his  family  and  his  noukars,  and  then,  to  send  him  in 
chains  to  the  devil." 

Ackmeth  added  to  this  falsehood  all  sorts  of  details 
which  Fatma  stored  in  her  mind,  making  the  khan  renew 
his  promise  of  the  ten  sheep,  and  especially  of  the  gown 
of  silk. 

The  khan  pledged  himself,  and  to  bind  the  bargain  he 
gave  her  a  gold  piece,  a  thing  so  rare  among  the  moun- 
taineers that  they  make  them  into  ornaments  of  dress. 

"  Allah !  "  cried  the  old  woman,  clutching  the  piece  of 
money  in  her  hand.  "  May  my  salt  turn  to  ashes,  may  I 
die  of  hunger,  may  —  " 

"  Come, "  interrupted  Ackmeth,  "  enough ;  don't  feed 
the  devil  with  your  oaths;  use  words  to  some  purpose. 
Ammalat  has  great  faith  in  you,  I  know.  Don't  forget 
that  his  happiness  is  at  stake ;  that  in  rescuing  him  from 
the  Russians,  you  are  extricating  him  from  the  hands  of 
the  devil.  Once  convinced  that  they  intend  to  send  him 
to  Siberia,  he  will  leave  his  new  friends  and  marry  my 
daughter.  Then  you  will  all  come  to  live  with  me  in 
Khunsack,  in  your  old  country,  and  you  will  end  your 
life  singing  in  the  land  where  you  began  to  sing.  But 
beware  !  if  you  betray  us,  or  if  you  spoil  the  affair  with 
your  prating,  I  swear,  for  my  part,  I,  who  do  not  take 


SULTANETTA.  323 

oaths,  to  feed  the  devil  on  chislik  that  I  have  made  from 
your  old  skin," 

"  You  can  be  easy,  khan ;  I  am  an  honest  woman,  to 
whose  flesh  the  devil  has  no  right.  I  will  keep  the 
secret  as  securely  as  if  it  were  in  the  tomb  of  my  dead, 
and  I  will  put  my  shirt  on  Ammalat."  ^ 

"  Enough,  then ;  and,  that  the  question  may  not  arise 
at  an  inopportune  moment,  I  think  I  must  seal  your  lips 
with  gold." 

And  the  khan  drew  out  a  second  piece  of  gold,  which 
he  handed  to  Fatma. 

"  By  my  head  and  my  eyes,  I  am  yours !  "  cried  the 
old  woman,  seizing  and  kissing  the  khan's  hand. 

Then  she  fell  on  her  knees  to  kiss  his  feet. 

Ackmeth  Khan  drew  away  in  scorn. 

"  Slavery,  slavery, "  muttered  he,  "  be  you  accursed, 
that,  for  two  pieces  of  gold,  can  make  a  human  being 
crawl  like  a  snake  !  " 

And  he  went  away. 

^  A  Tartar  saying :  To  put  one's  shirt  on  another,  is  to  cause 
him  to  entertain  no  opinions  except  those  of  the  one  whose  shirt  he 
wears. 


324  SULTANETTA. 


XIV. 
Colonel  Verkovsky  to  h\s  fiancie  : — 

August,  1822. 
In  Camp,  nrar  the  village  op  Kjafpib  Koumtsok. 

Yes,  Ammalat  is  in  love,  dear  ^larie.  But  how  does 
he  love,  the  lunatic  t  Never,  in  my  maddest  youth,  did 
my  love  for  you  —  the  love  that  has  heen  my  life,  more- 
over !  —  reach  such  a  length.  I  myself  was  scorched 
like  paper  ignited  hy  the  sun's  rays ;  while  he  bums  like 
a  ship  struck  by  liglitning  and  lost  at  sea. 

Marie,  do  you  remember  when  we  once  read  —  happy 
time  :  —  Shakspere's  "  Othello  ?  "  Well,  "  Othello"  alone 
can  give  you  an  idea  of  the  tropical  flame  that  leaps 
through  the  veins  of  our  Tartar.  True,  in  Ammalat  the 
Tartar  is  grafted  on  tlie  Persian. 

Now  that  the  ice  is  broken,  he  loves  to  talk  long  and 
often  of  his  Sultanetta.  And  I  like  to  see  him  blaze  up 
as  he  talks  of  her.  Sometimes  he  resembles  a  cataract 
falling  from  the  height  of  a  rock,  and  again  he  is  like 
one  of  those  naphtha  springs  of  Baku.  Like  them,  he 
burns  with  an  inextinguishable  flame,  his  cheeks  glow, 
his  eyes  emit  sparks.  He  is  magnificent  at  such  times. 
I  myself  am  so  affected  that  I  open  my  arms  and  take 
him  to  my  bosom,  quite  broken  down  by  his  excitement. 
Very  soon  he  becomes  ashamed  of  himself.  He  darea 
not  look  at  me,  releases  my  hand  and  goes  away;  and 
he  spends  entire  days,  after  one  of  these  exhibitions, 
silent  and  taciturn. 


SULTANETTA,  325 

Since  his  return  from  Khunsack,  he  is  gloomier  than 
ever,  and  especially  during  these  last  few  days. 

He  has  begged  me  to  let  him  go  again  to  Khunsack  to 
see  his  love  just  once  more.  But  I  have  refused  his 
request.  I  must  guard  his  honor.  With  that  violent 
passion,  he  might  fail  to  keep  his  word  some  day,  and  I 
should  lose  the  ideal  that  I  have  formed  of  this  hand- 
some, noble-hearted  young  man. 

I  have  written  all  this  to  Yermolof.  He  has  told  me 
to  take  him  with  me  to  Georgievsk,  where  he  himself  will 
be.  There,  through  Ammalat,  he  will  form  a  treaty 
with  Ackmeth  Khan,  which  will  be  of  the  greatest 
utility  to  Russia,  and  which  may  achieve  Ammalat's 
happiness  by  leading  to  his  union  with  Sultanetta.  I 
shall  be  very  happy,  dear  Marie,  on  the  day  when  I 
shall  make  this  young  man  happy!  And  he,  who  can 
never  feel  by  halves,  what  gratitude  he  will  declare ! 
Then,  dear  Marie,  I  will  make  him  get  on  his  knees  before 
you,  and  I  will  say :  "  Adore  her ;  if  I  had  not  loved 
Marie,  you  would  not  be  the  husband  of  Sultanetta, " 

Yesterday  I  received  a  letter  from  the  lieutenant-gov- 
ernor. How  kind  he  is !  He  has  anticipated  all  my 
wishes.  Everything  is  arranged,  my  love,  and  I  am  to 
join  you  at  the  springs.  I  have  only  to  take  my  regi- 
ment to  Derbend,  and  set  off.  I  shall  know  neither 
fatigue  by  day,  nor  sleep  by  night  before  the  hour  when 
I  shall  rest  in  your  arms.  What  eagle  will  lend  me  his 
wings  for  my  journey  1  What  giant  will  lend  me  his 
strength  to  support  my  happiness  ?  In  truth,  my  heart 
is  so  light  that  to  prevent  its  flying  away,  I  seize  my 
breast  with  both  hands.  Could  I  but  sleep  until  the 
moment  of  seeing  you  again,  and  until  then  live  only  in 
dreams  in  which  you  are  present!  And  yet,  my  dear 
love,  I  awoke  this  morning  as  sad  as  death.     T  know  not 


326  SULTANBTTA. 

what  presentiment  of  evil  assails  my  heart.  I  left  my 
tent  and  entered  Ammalat's.  He  was  still  asleep;  his 
face  was  pale  and  haggard.  In  his  heart  some  hate  is 
struggling  with  his  love.  He  bears  me  ill-will  for  my 
refusal ;  but  what  revenge  I  shall  enjoy  on  the  day  when 
I  shall  have  secured  his  happiness,  when  I  can  say: 
*  Life,    what  is  it  t      It  is  Sultanetta,    now !  " 

To-day  I  shall  say  good-bye  to  my  mountains  of  Dag- 
hestan  for  a  long  time.  Who  knows  t  perhaps  forever. 
It  is  curious,  my  dear  love,  when  I  catch  myself  gazing 
at  the  mountains,  sea  and  sky,  by  what  sweet  sadness 
my  heart  is  both  oppressed  and  expanded. 

O  my  dear  soul !  how  happy  I  am  that  I  can  now  say 
with  assurance :  Till  we  meet  again  I 


SULTANETTA.  327 


XV. 


The  poison  of  the  lie  seared  Ammalat's  heart  and 
spread  through  his  veins. 

His  nurse  Fatma  had  conscientiously  earned  her  ten 
sheep,  her  silk  gown,  and  her  two  pieces  of  gold. 

She  had  on  that  very  evening  plied  him  at  length 
with  all  the  khan's  conspiracy,  Amrnalat  having  come  to 
Bouinaky  with  the  colonel,  and  the  colonel  having  had 
an  interview  with  the  chamkal. 

He  had  tried  at  first  to  doubt ;  but  how  could  he  sus- 
pect Fatma,  his  good  nurse,  who  loved  him  like  a  son, 
to  be  the  accomplice  of  Ackmeth  Khan  ? 

The  poisoned  arrow  had  lodged  deep  in  his  heart.  In 
his  first  transport  of  rage,  he  wished  to  kill  both  the 
colonel  and  the  chamkal. 

His  veneration  for  the  dues  of  hospitality  withheld 
him. 

He  postponed  his  revenge  till  a  later  time,  but  as  one 
puts  his  dagger  into  its  sheath,  only  to  draw  it  forth  keen 
and  deadly. 

Thus  the  day  went  by;  the  regiment  halted  for  two 
hours'  rest. 

During  these  two  hours,  this  is  what  Ammalat  wrote 
to  Ackmeth  Khan,  hoping  to  relieve  his  heart  by  unbur- 
dening it  on  paper :  — 

"  Midnight. 
**  Ackmeth  Khan !    Ackmeth  Khan !    why  have   you 
flashed  this  light  into  my  eyes  ?     Do  you  know  that  its 


828  SULTANETTA. 

flame  has  entered  my  breast  t  Oh !  friendship  forgotten !  a 
brother  betrayed !  a  brotlier  murdered !  what  terrible 
extremes,  and  between  them  but  a  step,  —  or  an  abyss ! 

"  I  cannot  sleep,  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  I  am 
chained  to  this  thought,  like  a  prisoner  to  the  wall  of 
his  dungeon.  A  sea  of  blood  flows  in  upon  me,  and 
lightnings  flash  above  the  dark  waves,  instead  of  stars. 

"  My  soul  is  like  a  rock  to  which  the  wild  birds  come 
by  day  to  tear  their  prey,  and  the  spirits  of  hell  by  night 
to  plot  murtler.  0  Verkovsky !  what  have  I  done  to 
you?  Why  efface  from  a  mountaineer's  heaven  his 
most  beautiful  star,  —  liberty  ?  Why  t  Because  I  have 
loved  you  too  much,  perhaps.  I  have  sacrificed  my  love 
for  you.  You  might  have  said  simply,  'Ammalat,  I 
need  your  life, '  and  I  should  have  given  it  as  simply  as 
you  had  asked  it.  Like  the  son  of  Abraham,  I  should 
have  lain  down  under  the  knife  and  died  forgiving  you. 

"  But  to  sell  my  liberty !  To  take  me  from  Sultanetta  I 
Oh,  no,    traitor! 

"  And  he  lives  still ! 

"  From  time  to  time,  like  a  dove  flitting  through  the 
smoke  of  a  fire,  I  see  your  beautiful  face,  my  Sultanetta. 
Why,  then,  as  once,  does  the  sight  not  delight  met 
They  would  separate  us,  my  darling,  they  would  give 
you  to  another,  and  give  me  to  the  tomb.  But  it  shaU 
not  be ;  I  will  come  to  you  by  a  trail  of  blood.  I  will 
perform  the  frightful  task  imposed  on  me  as  the  price  of 
your  possession  and  I  shall  possess  you.  Besides  your 
friends,  invite  to  our  wedding  the  vultures  and  crows. 
Oh !  I  will  set  out  a  feast  for  all  the  guests.  I  will 
bestow  a  priceless  kalim ;  *  instead  of  a  velvet  cushion,  I 
will  place  tinder  the  head  of  my  bride  the  heart  that  I 
respectedf  that  I  loved  almost  as  much  as  her  own. 
'  Weddipg-prosoBt. 


SULTANETTA.  329 

•*  O  innocent  girl,  you  will  be  the  cause  of  a  horrible 
crime !  Sweet  creature,  for  you  two  friends  will  clutch 
each  other's  throats  in  an  embrace  of  devilish  rage.  For 
you !  for  you !  but  is  it  indeed  for  you  alone  ? 

"  I  have  twenty  times  heard  Verkovsky  say  that  it  was 
cowardly  to  get  rid  of  an  enemy  by  a  shot  or  a  dagger- 
thrust. 

"  How  strange  these  Europeans  are !  According  to 
them,  when  an  enemy  has  crushed  your  head  with  his 
heel,  or  your  heart  with  his  hands,  you  are  to  say :  '  You 
have  dishonored  me ;  you  have  stripped  my  tree  of  life  of 
its  leaves ;  you  have  blighted  the  roses  of  my  heart ;  let 
us  fight!  If  I  am  the  stronger,  I  shall  kill  you;  if  you 
are  the  stronger,  you  will  kill  me.' 

"  And  they  present  their  breasts  to  the  traitor's  ball  or 
sword. 

"  Oh !  it  is  not  so  with  us,  Yerkovsky ;  but  it  was  not 
enough  that  you  should  bmd  my  hands,  you  would  like 
to  bind  my  conscience,  too. 

"  Useless,  wasted  words ! 

"  I  have  loaded  my  gun ;  my  gun  came  from  my  father ; 
my  father  had  it  from  my  grandfather.  I  have  been  told  of 
many  famous  shots  that  it  has  sent  home.  True,  never  yet 
has  it  been  fired  in  the  dark,  or  in  ambush.  It  has 
always  breathed  fire  and  spat  death  in  battle,  before  the 
eyes  of  all,  in  the  front  rank ;  and  it  fought  against  noble 
warriors,  worthy  foes;  it  never  had  to  avenge  treach- 
ery or  wrong.  But  now !  Oh  !  tremble  not,  ray  hand  ! 
A  charge  of  powder,  a  leaden  ball,  a  flash,  a  report,  an 
echo,  and  all  is  over. 

"  A  charge  of  powder !  what  a  little  thing !  Yet  here 
it  is  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand  and  barely  does  it  cover 
it,  yet  it  is  enough  to  banish  the  soul  from  a  man's  body. 
Cursed  be  he  that  invented  the  gray  powder  that  gives 


380  8ULTANETTA. 

the  hero's  life  to  the  coward's  hand ;  that  kills  from  afar 
tlie  enemy  oflF  guard,  that  murders  with  a  single  look ! 

**  So  a  single  shot  is  to  undo  all  my  old  ties  and  open 
my  way  to  new  ones.  In  the  freshness  of  the  mountains, 
on  Sultanetta's  bosom,  my  worn  heart  will  regain  its 
vigor.  Like  the  swallow,  I  will  make  my  nest  in  a 
foreign  land  and  cast  aside  all  past  griefs,  as  one  throws 
away  an  old  garment  tattered  by  brambles  and  thorns. 

"  But  my  conscience ! 

"  Once  it  happened  that  I  recognized  in  the  enemies' 
ranks  a  man  wliom  I  had  sworn  to  kill.  I  could  have 
sent  him  a  bullet  without  his  knowing  from  where  it 
came.  I  was  ashamed.  I  turned  my  horse  away  and 
did  not  shoot.  Yet  I  would  pierce  the  heart  on  which  I 
have  rested  as  if  it  had  been  a  brother's  I  He  deceived 
me ;  but  was  it  such  a  misfortune  to  believe  in  his  friend- 
ship, however  false  ? 

"  0  that  my  tears  could  quench  my  rage,  my  thirst 
for  vengeance, —  that  they  could  buy,  could  gain  Sul- 
tanetta! 

"  But  why  does  the  dawn  delay  so  long  1  Let  it  come  I 
I  will  look  upon  the  sun  without  blushing,  and  I  will 
meet  Verkovsky's  eye  without  paling.  My  heart  is  piti- 
less. Treachery  calls  for  treachery.  I  am  resolved. 
Here  is  the  day  —  it  is  the  last. 

"  No.     It  was  but  a  lightning  flash." 

And,  to  fortify  himself  with  the  courage  which  he 
felt  he  lacked,  Ammalat  Beg  seized  a  bottle  of  wine  that 
Sophyr  Ali  had  brought  him,  and  emptied  it  at  one 
draught. 

Then  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow;  but  it  was  of  no 
avail ;  he  could  not  sleep.  A  viper  was  devouring  his 
heart. 


SULTANETTA.  331 

Then  he  went  to  Sophyr  Ali,  who  was  asleep,  and 
shook  him  roughly. 

"  Get  up !  "  he  cried ;  "  it  is  light. " 

Sophyr  Ali  opened  his  eyes  and  regarded  Ammalat 
with  a  yawn. 

"  Light !  —  on  your  cheeks ;  but  it  is  the  glow  of  wine 
that  they  reflect,  and  not  of  dawn." 

"  Get  up,  I  tell  you !  The  dead  themselves  must  rise 
out  of  their  graves  to  come  to  meet  the  one  that  I  shall 
send  them." 

"  What  are  you  saying  1  Am  I  a  dead  man  ?  You 
are  going  mad,  by  Allah !  Ammalat  Beg.  Let  the  dead 
rise  if  it  amuses  them,  let  the  forty  imams  come  back 
with  the  dawn  if  it  suits  them ;  as  for  me,  I  am  a  live 
man  that  has  not  had  enough  sleep.     Good-night !  " 

"You  like  to  drink,  Sophyr  Ali.  I  am  thirsty  this 
morning;  drink  with  me." 

"  Ah !  that  is  another  thing,  and  now  your  reason  is 
returning.  Pour  out  a  glass  full,  pour  a  full  horn. 
Allah !  I  am  always  ready  to  drink  and  to  love. " 

"  And  to  revenge  yourself  on  an  enemy,  is  it  not  so  1 
Here  's  to  the  health  of  the  devil,  who  turns  friends  into 
deadly  enemies!  Where  I  go,  you  follow,  do  you  not, 
Sophyr  Ali?" 

"  Ammalat,  it  is  not  only  wine  from  the  same  bottle 
that  we  have  drunk,  but  milk  from  the  same  mother.  1 
will  follow,  should  you  build  your  nest  on  the  top-most 
ledge  of  a  Khunsack  crag.    However,  a  little  advice  —  " 

"  No  advice,  Sophyr  Ali ;  no  reproaches,  what  is  more. 
This  is  no  time  for  either. " 

"  You  are  right.  Advice  and  reproaches  would  drown 
in  wine  like  flies.  It  is  no  time  for  reproaches  or  advice, 
it  is  the  time  for  sleep. " 

"  For  sleep,  you  say  ?     There  is  no  more  sleep  for  me. 


332  SULTANETTA. 

Have  you  examined  tl»e  flint  of  my  gim  t  Is  it  good  1 
Did  you  renew  the  priming?  it  is  not  damp?  " 

"  Wliat  is  the  matter,  Ammalat  ?  There  is  some 
mystery,  some  crime  perhaps  in  your  heart.  Your  eye 
is  feverish,  your  face  is  livid;  your  words  smell  of 
blood." 

"  My  deeds  shall  be  more  dreadful  still,  Sophyr  Ali. 
Sidtanetta  is  beautiful, — my  Sultanetta!  Is  this  a 
marriage  song  ringing  in  my  ears?  No,  it  is  tlie  roaring 
of  demons,  the  wailing  of  jackals.  Howl,  wolves!  weep 
demons!  You  are  tired  of  waiting.  Be  quiet,  you  shall 
not  wait  long.  More  wine,  Sophyr  Ali!  more  wine!  — 
and  then,  blood !  " 

Ammalat  drained  at  a  draught  a  second  bottle,  and  fell 
dead  dnmk  on  his  bed,  muttering  a  few  unintelligible 
words.  Sophyr  Ali  undressed  him,  put  him  to  bed,  and 
watched  at  his  pillow  the  remainder  of  the  night,  casting 
about  in  vain  for  an  explanation  of  his  words. 

Finally,  at  break  of  day,  he  himself  went  to  bed  say- 
ing,— 

"  He  was  drimk.* 


SULTANETTA.  333 


XVI. 

In  the  morning,  before  taking  up  his  march,  the 
captain  who  was  on  duty  reported  at  the  colonel's 
quarters. 

After  announcing  that  everything  was  in  proper  ordet 
in  the  regiment,  he  looked  about,  and  approaching 
Verkovsky  uneasily,  he  inquired :  — 

"  Colonel,  can  I  speak  with  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly, "  answered  Verkovsky,  absently. 

"  But  it  is  on  a  serious  matter,  colonel." 

"  A  serious  matter  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Speak,  captain." 

"  We  are  quite  alone  ?  " 

In  turn,  Verkovsky  looked  about. 

"  We  are  quite  alone, "  said  he. 

"  Colonel,  what  I  have  to  tell  you  is  of  great  impor- 
tance, of  very  great  importance." 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  Yesterday,  at  Bouinaky,  a  soldier  of  our  regiment 
overheard  a  conversation  between  Ammalat  and  his 
nurse.  He  is  a  Tartar  of  Kasan  who  understands 
Caucasian  Tartar  perfectly,  ^ell,  he  heard  Ammalat's 
nurse,  old  Fatma,  telling  your  prisoner  that  you  and  the 
chamkal  wished  to  send  him  to  Siberia.  Ammalat  was 
furious.  He  declared  that  he  had  already  been  fore- 
warned by  Ackmetli  Khan  of  such  an  intention,  but 
that  he  would  kill  you  with  his  own  hand  first. 


334  SULTANETTA. 

"  Believing  tliat  lie  had  misunderstood  or  that,  if  he 
had  heard  ariglit,  you  were  in  danger  of  death,  the 
Tartar  began  yesterday  to  spy  upon  every  movement  of 
Ammalat's. 

"  In  the  evening  Ammalat  spoke  with  an  unknown 
man,  and,  after  greeting  him,  said, — 

"  '  Tell  the  khan  that  to-morrow  morning  by  sunrise 
all  shall  be  over ;  let  him  be  prepared ;  I  shall  see  him 
soon.'" 

"  Is  that  all,  captain  1 "  asked  Verkovsky. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  sufficient  to  disturb  the  men 
who  love  you,  colonel  t  Listen  to  me :  I  have  spent  my 
life  among  the  Tartars ;  he  is  a  madman  who  puts  faith 
in  tlie  best  of  them.  The  brother  is  not  sure  of  his  own 
head  even  at  the  moment  when  he  rests  it  on  his  brother's 
shoulder." 

"  Jealousy  is  the  cause  of  Ammalat's  moodiness,  cap- 
tain. Cain  left  it  as  a  heritage  to  mankind,  and  espe- 
cially to  those  who  dwell  near  Ararat.  We  have  nothing 
to  quarrel  about,  Ammalat  and  I.  I  have  never  done 
him  aught  but  good,  and  I  have  no  intention  of  doing  him 
evil.  Rest  easy,  then,  captain.  I  have  faith  in  your 
qpldier's  good  intention,  but  not  in  his  knowledge  of 
the  Tartar  langiiage.  I  am  not  so  great  a  man  that 
begs  and  khans  seek  to  assassinate  me,  captain.  I  know 
Ammalat  very  well;  he  is  violent,  but  he  has  a  good 
heart." 

**  Don't  deceive  yourself,  colonel ;  Ammalat  is  an 
Asiatic  Don't  expect  from  him,  therefore,  either  the 
virtues  or  the  vices  of  a  European.  Here,  it  is  not  as 
with  us;  here,  the  word  conceals  the  thought,  the  face 
masks  the  soul.  A  Tartar  may  seem  an  honest  man  on 
the  surface ;  delve  below  it,  and  you  will  find  vUenesSi 
fury,  and  ferocity." 


SULTANETTA.  335 

"  Experience  may  have  given  you  the  right  to  think 
thus,  captain ;  but  as  for  me,  I  have  no  reason  to  suspect 
Ammalat.  What  would  he  gain  by  killing  me  ?  I  am 
his  only  hope.  I  was  to  have  been  dead  by  daylight ; 
the  sun  is  quite  high  above  the  horizon,  and,  as  you  see, 
I  am  stUl  alive.  I  thank  you  nevertheless,  captain;  but 
do  not  suspect  Ammalat.  Now  we  must  be  on  the 
march!  " 

The  captain  withdrew.  The  drums  began  to  roll,  and 
the  regiment  began  its  march. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  cool.  The  regiment  looked 
like  a  long  serpent  with  scales  of  steel,  sometimes  stretched 
at  length  at  the  bottom  of  a  valley,  sometimes  crawling 
over  the  mountain. 

Ammalat  marched  at  the  front,  pale  and  sad.  He 
hoped  that  the  beating  of  the  drum  would  drown  the 
voice  in  his  heart. 

The  colonel  called  him  and  said  pleasantly,  — 

"  I  must  scold  you,  Ammalat.  You  follow  the  teach- 
ing of  Hafiz  too  strictly  to  the  letter;  wine  is  a  good 
comrade,  but  a  bad  master.  You  have  spent  a  bad 
night,  Ammalat." 

"Yes,  a  terrible  night,  colonel;  Allah  grant  that  I 
may  never  pass  such  another !  I  dreamed  a  great  deal, 
—  horrible  dreams." 

"Ammalat,  Ammalat,  we  should  not  do  what  our 
religion  forbids.  Your  conscience  is  no  longer  at 
peace." 

"Happy  is  the  man  whose  conscience  has  no  enemy 
but  wine ! " 

"  What  conscience  do  you  mean,  my  friend  1  Every 
nation,  every  century  has  its  own  conscience :  what  yes- 
terday was  regarded  as  a  crime,  to-morrow  will  be  glori- 
fied as  a  great  deed." 


336  8ULTANETTA- 

*' I  presume,  however, "  responded  Ammalat,  "that 
deceit,  revenge,  and  murder  were  never  regarded  as 
virtues. " 

"  I  do  not  say  that,  although  we  live  in  a  century  in 
which  success  almost  always  carries  its  own  absolution. 
The  most  conscientious  men  of  this  period  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  say  and  even  to  put  in  practice  the  proverb: 
•  The  end  justifies  the  means.'  " 

Ammalat  cast  a  side  glance  at  the  colonel. 

"  Traitor !  "  he  muttered  to  himself;  "  you  talk  indeed 
like  a  traitor." 

Then,  deeper  down,  within  his  inmost  breast^  within 
his  heart,  he  added :  — 

"  The  hour  is  at  hand  !  " 

The  colonel,  unsuspicious,  advanced  beside  the  young 
man.  At  eight  versts  from  Karakent  they  suddenly 
came  in  sight  of  the  Caspian  Sea. 

Verkovsky  became  thoughtful. 

"  It  is  strange,  Ammalat, "  said  he,  "  I  cannot  look 
upon  your  sad  sea,  your  wild  country,  full  of  diseases, 
and  of  men  worse  than  the  diseases,  without  a  pang  of 
the  heart  and  a  saddening  of  soul.  I  hate  war  with  in- 
visible enemies.  I  hate  to  serve  with  comrades  who  are 
seldom  our  friends.  I  serve  my  country  with  love,  the 
emperor  with  loyalty ;  in  order  to  perform  my  military 
duties,  I  deny  myself  all  the  joys  of  life ;  my  mind  is 
petrified  from  inaction,  my  heart  interred  in  solitude.  I 
have  torn  myself  away  from  everytliing,  even  from  my 
heart's  beloved.  What  recompense  have  I  receivetl  ?  A 
secondary  rank.  When  will  the  hour  arrive  in  which  I 
may  rush  into  the  arms  of  my  betrothed  t  How  long 
will  it  be  before,  tired  of  service,  I  shall  rest  in  my  home 
on  the  banks  of  the  Dnieper  ?  At  last  I  have  my  leave 
in  my  pocket.     In  five  days  I  shall  be  at  Gcorgievsk; 


SULTANETTA.  337 

yet  it  is  strange,  but  I  approacli  her  in  vain;  it  always 
seems  as  if  the  Libyan  desert,  a  sea  of  ice,  an  eternity  as 
dark  and  infinite  as  that  of  the  tomb,  lay  between  us. 
Oh !  my  heart,  my  poor  heart ! " 

Verkovsky  became  silent;  he  was  weeping. 

His  horse,  feeling  his  bridle  abandoned,  quickened  his 
pace,  and  Ammalat  and  he  outstripped  the  regiment. 

He  delivered  himself  into  the  hands  of  his  murderer. 

But,  at  sight  of  his  tears,  at  the  sound  of  his  stifled 
sobs,  pity  stole  into  Ammalat's  heart,  as  a  ray  of  sunlight 
penetrates  a  gloomy  cave. 

He  looked  upon  the  grief  of  him  who  had  so  long  been 
his  friend,  and  he  said  to  himself, — 

"  No,  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  dissemble  to  such  an 
extent. " 

But,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  momentary  weakness,  Ver- 
kovsky raised  his  head,  and  trying  to  smile,  he  said, — 

"Be  ready,  Ammalat,  you  are  to  go  with  me." 

At  these  fatal  words,  every  good  impulse  remaining  in 
Ammalat's  heart  was  crushed. 

The  thought  of  the  agreement  between  the  colonel  and 
the  chamkal  presented  itself  to  his  mind,  and  the  path  of 
eternal  exile  unfolded  before  him. 

"With  you?  "  he  said,  his  lips  quivering  with  anger, 
"  with  you  into  Russia  1  If  you  are  going  there,  why 
not?" 

And  he  burst  into  a  laugh  so  strange  that  it  sounded 
like  the  grinding  of  teeth,  and,  whipping  up  his  horse, 
he  bounded  ahead. 

He  must  have  time  to  get  his  gun  ready. 

Then  he  turned  his  horse,  bore  down  upon  the  colonel 
and  rode  past  him;  then  he  began  to  circle  about  him 
like  an  eagle  with  its  prey. 

At  each  round  he  became  paler,  more  furious,  more 

22 


338  8ULTANETTA. 

threatening.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  breath  of  a 
demon  was  hissing  in  his  ear,  and  saying,^ 

"KiU!  kill!  kUl!  " 

All  this  while,  the  colonel,  suspecting  nothing,  looked 
smilingly  on  at  Ammalat's  evolutions,  thinking  that, 
nfter  the  fashion  of  the  Asiatics,  he  wished  him  to  admire 
his  adroitness  in  executing  the  whim. 

He  saw  him  bring  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  thinking 
that  he  was  continuing  the  siiort,  the  colonel  lifted  his 
helmet  from  his  head  and  shouted, — 

"  Into  my  fouraska  !  into  my  fouraska !  I  will  throw 
it  up  for  you." 

**  No, "  said  Ammalat  Beg,  "  into  your  heart  I  " 

And  at  ten  paces  from  the  colonel,  he  fired. 

The  colonel  uttered  not  a  sound,  not  a  sigh,  as  he  fell. 

The  ball  had  pierced  his  heart,  as  Ammalat  had 
intended. 

Ammalat's  horse,  swept  onward  in  his  course,  stopped 
before  tlie  dead  body,  falling  back  on  his  haunches. 

Ammalat  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  stood  leaning  on 
his  smoking  gun,  as  if  he  would  prove  to  himself  that  he 
was  insensible  to  that  dead  gaze,  and  cool  in  the  presence 
of  the  blood  which  streamed  from  the  wound. 

What  was  passing  just  then  in  the  heart  of  the  assas- 
sin ?     God  alone  knows. 

Sophyr  Ali  camo  up  and  flung  himself  on*  his  knees 
beside  the  dead  man. 

He  bent  over  the  lips ;  the  lips  were  still. 

"  He  is  dead !  "  cried  Sophyr  Ali,  in  dismay,  as  he 
stared  at  Ammalat. 

"  Is  he  quite  dead  t "  said  the  latter,  as  if  he  were 
awakening  from  a  heavy  sleep.  "  In  that  case,  so  much 
the  better ;  for  his  death  is  my  happiness. " 

"Your  happiness!"  cried  Sophyr  Ali;  "yours,  the 


SULTANETTA.  339 

murderer  of  your  benefactor!  The  day  when  you  will 
find  happiness  is  the  day  on  which  the  whole  world  shall 
renounce  God  and  worship  the  devil." 

"  Sophyr  Ali, "  said  Ammalat,  roughly,  "  remember 
that  you  are  my  servant,  and  not  my  judge." 

And,  springing  upon  his  horse,  he  said, — 

"FoUowme!" 

"  May  remorse  alone  follow  you  like  a  spectre,  not  I. 
Do  what  you  will,  turn  out  as  you  may,  from  this  day 
we  are  nothing  more  to  each  other,  and  I  renounce  you 
for  my  brother.     Farewell,  Cain !  " 

At  this  response  from  Sophyr  Ali,  Ammalat  uttered  a 
groan,  and,  signing  to  his  noukars  to  follow  him,  he 
darted  as  swiftly  as  an  arrow  into  the  mountains.  Ten 
minutes  later,  the  head  of  the  Russian  column  halted 
before  its  dead  colonel. 


340  SULTAN  EITA. 


XVII. 

Ammalat  wandered  three  days  in  the  mountains  of 
Daghestan. 

Although  he  was  among  the  conquered  villages,  he 
felt  secure,  the  mountaineers  in  spite  of  their  submission 
keeping  their  sympathies  for  the  enemies  of  the  Russians. 

But,  beyond  the  reach  of  danger,  he  was  not  beyond 
the  reach  of  remorse,  and  Sophyr  Ali's  curse  clung  to 
him  with  an  iron  grasp.  Neither  his  heart  nor  his  brain 
essayed  to  excuse  his  crime,  now  that  it  was  committed. 
He  had  always  before  him  that  final  moment  of  the 
murder  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke  enveloping 
both  assassin  and  victim,  the  colonel  had  fallen  from  his 
horse.  It  was  an  Asiatic  who  committed  the  first  crime, 
who  became  the  first  traitor,  and  the  tradition  of  ever- 
lasting remorse  was  born  at  the  foot  of  Ararat. 

Yet  his  task  was  not  ended  with  the  murder;  it 
remained  for  him  to  perform  a  ghastlier  deed  than  that. 

"  Do  not  show  yourself  in  Khunsack  without  the  head 
of  Verkovsky, "  Ackmeth  Khan  had  said ;  and,  as  if  no 
degree  of  crime  was  to  be  spared  him  after  his  first,  he 
must  now  secure  the  head. 

Among  the  Orientals,  an  enemy  is  not  regarded  as 
really  dead  until  he  is  decapitated.  Vengeance  is  not 
complete  unless  his  adversary's  head  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  avenger. 

Not  daring  to  discover  his  intention  to  his  noukars, 
apon  whose  courage  on  such  an  occasion  he  knew  that  he 


SULTANETl'A.  341 

could  not  rely,  he  resolved  to  return  alone  to  Derbend 
across  the  mountain. 

And ,  indeed,  none  of  his  men  would  have  hesitated  to 
commit  on  the  battlefield  an  act  which  every  mountaineer 
regards  as  a  matter  of  course  in  war;  but  none  of  them 
would  have  dared  to  enter  a  cemetery  at  night  and  vio- 
late a  tomb. 

However,  this  is  what  remained  for  Ammalat  to  do. 

The  night  was  dark  when  the  young  man  emerged 
from  the  hollow  cave  a  half-verst  distant  from  the  for- 
tress of  Marienkale,  which  serves  as  a  citadel  for  Derbend. 
He  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree  at  the  top  of  the  hill  from 
which  Yermolof,  yet  a  lieutenant,  had  stormed  Derbend. 
A  hundred  paces  from  this  hill  lay  the  Russian  cemetery. 

But,  in  the  total  darkness,  how  was  he  to  find  the 
new  grave  of  Verkovsky  ? 

The  sky  was  overcast  and  the  clouds  hovering  over  the 
earth  seemed  to  rest  on  the  mountains;  the  wind  sweep- 
ing from  the  valleys  seemed,  like  a  night-bird,  to  beat 
the  branches  of  the  trees  with  its  wings. 

Ammalat  shuddered  as  he  entered  this  realm  of  the 
dead,  whose  funereal  repose  he  had  come  to  disturb. 

He  listened. 

The  sea  roared  as  it  broke  upon  its  shore ;  around  him 
re-echoed  the  howling  of  the  wolves  and  jackals  whose 
comrade  he  had  become.  Then,  suddenly,  every  sound 
ceased,  save  that  eternal,  mournful  soughing  of  the  wind, 
which  seemed  like  the  wailing  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead. 

How  many  times  on  just  such  a  night  had  he  waked 
with  Verkovsky !  What  had  become  of  that  intelligent 
soul,  who  at  such  times  had  explained  to  him  all  nature's 
mysteries,  in  that  imknown  region  whither  he  had 
hurled  him  ? 

At  such  times  he  used  to  listen  to  him,  lying  near  him  oj 


342  SULTANETTA. 

leaning  on  his  arm.  And  now,  after  having  snatched 
life  from  the  body,  behold,  a  despoiler  of  tombe,  he  wa« 
coming  to  snatch  the  liead  from  the  grave  I 

"  Human  terrors  !  "  murmured  Ammalat,  wiping  liis 
forehead  that  streamed  with  perspiration,  "  what  are  you 
doing  now  in  a  heart  where  nothing  human  remains) 
Away!  away!  What!  I  have  taken  a  man's  life  and 
now  fear  to  take  the  head  from  the  body,  when  that 
head  means  a  treasure  for  me  t  Tnily,  I  am  mad!  Are 
not  the  dead  without  feeling  ?  " 

With  a  trembling  hand  Ammalat  lighted  some  dry 
sticks,  and  by  their  feeble  and  flickering  light,  he  began 
to  search  for  the  colonel's  grave.  Some  newly  tvimed 
earth  and  a  cross  on  wliich  was  to  be  read  the  name  of 
Verkovsky,  indicated  the  last  resting-place  of  him  whom 
he  had  so  often  called  brother.  He  uprooted  the  croes 
and  began  to  open  the  grave. 

The  task  was  neither  long  nor  difficult.  In  the 
Orient,  interments  are  made  almost  on  a  level  with  the 
ground. 

Ammalat's  poniard  very  soon  struck  the  lid  of  the 
coffin. 

By  a  last  effort  the  lid  was  raised. 

In  the  ruddy  light  of  the  burning  branches  he  was 
obliged  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  body. 

The  torture  was  terrible,  supreme,  unlike  any  torment 
that  human  justice  could  have  devised.  While  bending 
over  the  body,  Ammalat,  more  livid  than  the  corpee 
itself,  seemed  for  an  instant  as  if  turned  into  stone. 
What  had  he  come  there  to  do  ?  How  and  why  was  he 
there  1  Not  a  throb  of  his  suspended  heart,  not  a  fibre 
of  his  arrested  brain  could  have  made  answer ;  the  odor 
of  the  dead  enveloped  him,  a  vapor  of  death  dimmed 
his  sight. 


SULTANETTA.  343 

**  Yet  it  must  be  ended !  "  he  murmured,  trying  to 
draw  himself  from  his  stupor  by  the  sound  of  his  own 
words. 

But  not  vanity,  nor  revenge,  nor  love,  nor  any  feeling 
whose  frenzy  had  driven  him  to  commit  his  first  crime 
was  sustaining  him  now  in  the  accomplishment  of  his 
second.  The  second  was  more  than  a  crime,  it  was 
sacrilege. 

At  last,  he  set  his  poniard  against  the  neck  which  he 
must  cut,  cast  his  torch  far  behind  him  that  he  might 
conceal  his  infamous  task  from  himself  under  the  cover 
of  darkness,  and,  after  a  few  futile  efforts,  he  felt  with 
horror  that  he  had  achieved  his  end. 

The  head  was  severed  from  the  body. 

He  took  it,  and,  with  an  indefinable  feeling  of  anguish 
and  disgust,  he  threw  it  into  a  sack  which  he  had  brought 
for  the  purpose. 

Until  then,  he  had  felt  master  of  himself ;  but,  in  that 
moment,  when  he  tmderstood  that  the  more  cowardly  of 
his  two  deeds  was  accomplished;  when  there  hung  from 
his  arm  that  head  which  he  thought  to  exchange  for 
happiness;  when  he  was  forced  to  drag  his  feet  from 
that  soft  and  sliding  earth,  the  earth  of  the  tomb  in 
which  he  was  standing  up  to  his  knefes;  when,  in  shak- 
ing off  the  dust  of  the  dead,  his  foot  slipped  on  the  peb- 
bles and  he  fell  back  into  the  open  grave ,  as  if  the  corpse 
in  its  turn  would  not  let  him  go,  —  ah !  then  all  his 
presence  of  mind  deserted  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  was  going  mad. 

The  lighted  sticks  which  he  had  flung  behind  him  had 
set  fire  to  the  grass  scorched  by  the  burning  sun  of  June. 
He  had  forgotten  how  the  flame  came  to  be  there.  For 
him  it  was  that  of  hell.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
spirits  of    darkness,    laughing  and  crying,    were  leaping 


544  8ULTANETTA. 

about  him.  He  himself  began  to  weep,  b^an  to  laugh 
and  then  with  a  low  moan  in  which  were  blended  hia 
laughter  and  tears,  he  fled  without  looking  behind  hira. 

At  last,  on  the  hill  he  found  his  horse,  mounted  him, 
spurred  him  on  into  the  mountains  unheeding  of  rocks 
and  precipices,  taking  every  bush  that  caught  him  for  the 
staying  hand  of  the  corpse,  and  the  cries  of  the  jackals 
and  hyenas  for  the  last  death-rattle  of  his  benefactor, 
twice  murdered  by  him. 

He  arrived  at  Khunsack  on  the  evening  of  the  second 
day. 

Trembling  with  impatience,  he  leaped  down  from  his 
horse,  and  untied  from  his  saddle-bow  the  accursed  sack. 

He  ascended  the  well-known  flight  of  steps  and  passed 
through  the  first  rooms. 

They  were  crowded  with  moxmtaineers  in  war  costume. 
Some  walked  about  wearing  breastplates  of  mail,  others 
were  talking,  lying  side  by  side  on  their  bourkas. 

All  spoke  in  low  tones,  —  those,  at  least,  who  spoke, 
for  the  greater  number  maintained  a  gloomy  silence. 

The  frowning  brows,  the  darkened  faces  indicated  that 
they  were  depressed  by  sad  tidings  at  Khunsack. 

Noukars  ran  hither  and  thither;  all  knew  Ammalat 
and  yet  none  of  them  questioned  him.  No  one  appeared 
to  notice  him. 

Near  the  door  of  Ackmeth  Khan's  room  stootl  Soukay 
Khan,  his  second  son.     He  was  weeping  bitterly. 

"  What  does  this  mean  t "  demanded  Ammalat,  with 
forebo<ling8  of  ill.  "  You,  who  are  called  the  child 
without  tears,  are  now  weeping  t " 

Soukay  Khan,  without  answering  a  word,  pointed  to 
the  door  of  the  room. 

Ammalat  entered. 

There  a  terrible  spectacle  was  presented. 


SULTANETTA.  345 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  on  a  mattress  covered  over 
with  a  rug,  lay  Ackmeth  Khan,  already  disfigured  hy 
the  touch  of  death.  From  time  to  time  his  breast  heaved, 
but  it  was  attended  by  painful  effort. 

He  was  just  entering  on  that  last  agonizing  struggle 
awaiting  man  at  the  entrance  to  the  tomb. 

His  wife  and  daughter  were  on  their  knees  before  him, 
weeping.  His  eldest  son,  Montzale  Khan,  crouched 
motionless  at  his  feet,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  dying  man  several  women 
and  favorite  noukars  were  weeping. 

But,  full  of  the  terrible  thought  burning  within  him, 
Ammalat  approached  the  khan,  and,  he  alone  standing 
in  the  midst  of  these  stricken  people,  said, — 

"  Good  day,  khan !  I  bring  you  a  present  which 
might  bring  a  dead  man  to  life.  Prepare  the  wedding; 
here  is  Sultanetta's  wedding-gift." 

And  with  these  words  he  threw  the  colonel's  head  at 
the  khan's  feet. 

Ammalat's  voice  had  seemed  to  rouse  the  dying  man. 
He  raised  himself  to  see  the  present  which  the  young  beg 
had  brought  him.  Verkovsky's  severed  head  was  at  his 
feet.  • 

A  shudder  passed  through  his  frame. 

"  May  he  eat  out  his  own  heart, "  said  he,  "  who  brings 
such  a  sight  to  the  eyes  of  a  dying  man !  " 

Then,  raising  himself  with  a  last  effort,  and  lifting 
both  hands  to  heaven,  the  khan  said, — 

"  Allah  be  my  witness  that  I  pardon  all  my  enemies ; 
but  you,  you,  Ammalat,  I  curse  you !  " 

And  he  fell  back  dead  on  his  cushions. 

The  wife  of  Ackmeth  Khan  had  stared  with  deep- 
seated  terror  at  what  had  just  passed.  But,  when  she 
saw  her  husband  dead,  believing  that  the  sight  of  Am- 


346  SULTANETTA. 

malat  and  his  fatal  gift  had  hastened  his  death,  with  eyes 
aflame  she  pointed  to  the  dead  man  and  cried, — 

"  Messenger  of  hell !  look,  that  is  your  work.  Without 
you  my  husband  would  never  have  dreamed  of  setting 
Avarie  in  revolt  against  the  Russians;  witliout  you,  ho 
would  at  this  moment  be  well  and  at  peace.  But,  for 
you  and  through  you,  while  going  to  rouse  the  begs,  he 
fell  from  the  height  of  a  rock;  and  you,  wretch!  you, 
traitor!  you,  murderer !  instead  of  coming  to  soften 
his  agony  and  ease  his  death,  come  like  a  wild  beast 
and  throw  amid  tlie  phantoms  aroimd  the  bed  of  a 
dying  man,  that  ghastly  thing,  tliat  severed  head!  And 
whose  head?  Your  defender's,  your  friend's,  your 
benefactor's  1  "  / 

"  But  it  was  the  khan's  will !  "  cried  Ammalat,  thxmder- 
struck. 

"  Don't  accuse  the  dead.  Don't  stain  with  useless 
blood  the  body  of  one  who  cannot  defend  himself," 
returned  the  widow  more  and  more  exasperated,  —  "  you, 
who  fear  not  to  come  and  ask  the  daughter  iu  marriage  at 
her  father's  death-bed,  who  expect  to  receive  man's 
reward  while  obtaining  the  curse  of  God.  Sacrilege  and 
infamy  1  I  vow  by  the  tomb  of  my  ancestors,  by  the 
swords  of  my  sons,  by  the  honor  of  my  daughter,  that 
you  shall  never  be  my  son-in-law,  nor  my  guest.  Out  of 
my  house,  traitor!  " 

Ammalat  uttered  a  cry. 

**  Go !  "  added  the  widow ;  "  I  have  sons  whom  you 
could  strangle  with  an  embrace ;  I  have  a  daughter  whom 
you  could  poison  with  a  look.  Hide  yourself  in  the  caves 
of  our  mountains ;  there  teach  the  tigers  to  devour  each 
other.  Go!  and  know  one  thing,  my  door  shall  never 
be  opened  to  an  assassin." 

Ammalat  seemed  stricken  by  a  tliunderbolt. 


SULTANETTA.  347 

All  that  the  low  voice  of  conscience  had  already  said 
was  repeated  aloud  and  with  cruelty.  He  knew  not 
where  to  look.  On  the  floor  was  Verkovsky's  head ;  on 
the  bed  was  Ackmeth's  body;  before -him,  the  widow  — 
the  curse ! 

Yet  Sultanetta's  eyes,  drowned  in  tears,  shone  like 
two  stars  through  a  cloud. 

He  approached  her  saying, — 

"  Sultanetta,  that  I  did  it  all  for  you,  you  know  well, 
and  I  am  losing  you.  If  fate  wills,  it  must  be ;  but  only 
tell  me  if  you,  too,  hate  me ;  if  you,  too,  spurn  me  1 " 

Sultanetta  lifted  her  welling  eyes  to  the  one  she  had  so 
loved;  but  at  the  sight  of  Ammalat's  face,  pale  and 
spotted  with  blood,  she  hid  her  eyes  with  one  hand,  and 
with  the  other  pointing  alternately  to  her  father's  body 
and  the  colonel's  head,  she  said  firmly, — 

"Farewell,  Ammalat.  I  pity  you,  but  never  will  I 
be  yours." 

And,  overcome  by  her  struggle,  she  fell  fainting  beside 
the  body  of  her  father. 

The  native  pride  of  Ammalat  surged  back  to  his  .heart 
with  his  blood. 

"Ah!  thus  am  I  received  here,"  said  he,  casting  a 
look  of  contempt  toward  the  two  women ;  "  thus  are 
oaths  fulfilled  in  the  house  of  Ackmeth  Khan !  Ah !  I 
am  satisfied,  and  my  eyes  see  clearly,  at  last !  I  was  indeed 
mad  to  stake  my  happiness  on  the  heart  of  a  fickle  girl, 
and  I  have  been  patient  indeed  in  listening  to  the  impre 
cations  of  an  old  woman.  In  dying,  Ackmeth  Khan 
took  with  him  the  honor  and  the  hospitality  of  his  house. 
Make  way  !  I  go." 

Throwing  a  look  of  defiance  at  the  khan's  sons,  the 
noukars  and  cavaliers  who,  attracted  by  the  disturbance, 
were  crowding  into  the  room,  he  advanced  toward  them, 


348  8ULTANETTA. 

his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  kandjiar,  as  if  to  invite  them 
to  comhat. 

But  all  stood  aside,  avoiding  rather  than  fearing  him, 
and  not  a  word  more  was  addressed  to  him,  either  in  the 
chamher  of  the  dead  or  while  passing  through  the  other 
rooms. 

On  the  steps  he  found  his  noukars,  and  below,  his 
horse. 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle  without  saying  a  word,  left 
the  palace  at  a  walk,  went  slowly  through  the  streets  of 
Khunsack;  then,  from  the  height  whence  he  had  first 
seen  the  khan's  house,  he  gave  it  a  last  look. 

His  heart  was  full  of  bitterness,  his  eyes  were  charged 
with  blood;  offended  pride  was  grappling  its  hooks  of 
steel  into  the  depths  of  his  heart. 

In  lowering  wrath,  he  cast  a  last  look  upon  that  house 
where  he  had  known  and  lost  all  the  pleasures  of  the 
world. 

He  tried  to  speak ;  he  tried  to  pronoimce  the  name  of 
Sultanetta ;  he  tried  to  accuse ;  he  tried  to  curse. 

He  could  not  utter  a  single  word,  a  mountain  of  lead 
seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  him. 

Finally,  as  a  last  expedient  he  tried  to  weep ;  it  seemed 
to  him  that  this  enormous  weight  oppressing  him  must 
be  of  tears;  it  seemed  to  him  that  a  tear,  a  single  one, 
would  reconcile  him  with  human  kind  and  implore  God's 
pardon. 

"  One  tear!  one  tear !  only  one  tear!  "  he  cried. 

All  was  useless;  his  eyes  remained  dry,  burning,  arid. 
Moreover,  one  must  love  and  be  loved  in  order  to  shed 
tears,  and  Ammalat,  like  Satan,  hated  and  was  hated. 

The  days,  the  months,  the  years  rolled  by. 

Where  was  Yerkovsky's  assassin  ?  What  had  become 
of  himt 


SULTANETTA.  349 

No  one  knew. 

It  was  rumored  indeed  that  he  was  among  the  Tchet- 
chens,  where  his  kounack  Nephtali  had  been  unable  to 
deny  him  hospitality.  The  curse  of  the  dying  Ackmeth 
Khan  was  said  to  have  bereft  him  of  everything :  beauty, 
health,  courage  even. 

But  who  could  confirm  it? 

At  last,  little  by  little,  Ammalat  was  forgotten;  but 
the  memory  of  his  treachery  is  to-day  still  fresh  and 
vivid  among  Russians  and  Tartars. 


350  SULTANETTA. 


EPILOGUE. 

In  1828,  the  fortress  of  Anapa  was  beleaguered  by  land 
and  sea,  by  the  fleets  and  armies  of  Russia. 

Every  morning  a  new  battery,  sprung  up  in  the  night, 
thundered  nearer  the  town. 

The  Turkish  garrison,  backed  by  the  mountaineers 
forever  at  war  with  Russia,  bravely  held  their  ground. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  town  the  Russians  at  last 
succeeding  in  effecting  a  breach. 

The  wall  was  crumbling  under  their  balls;  but  its 
thickness  made  the  work  a  slow  and  laborious  task. 

From  time  to  time  —  especially  during  the  intense 
beat  of  the  day  —  the  reddened  cannon  and  the  wearied 
gimners  were  accorded  a  respite  of  an  hour  or  two. 

During  one  of  these  resting  spells,  while  the  gunners 
were  sleeping,  suddenly,  from  the  top  of  the  wall,  a 
horseman  on  a  white  horse  was  seen  descending,  sup- 
ported by  ropes  passed  under  the  animal's  stomach. 

Scarcely  had  he  touched  the  ground,  when  the  ropes 
were  withdrawn  over  the  top  of  the  wall,  the  horseman 
cleared  the  fosse  at  a  leap,  and,  setting  his  horse  at  a 
gallop,  passed  like  a  streak  of  light  between  batteries  and 
soldiers. 

A  few  shots  pursued  him,  but  without  effect;  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  forest. 

They  had  barely  caught  sight  of  him;  no  one  dreamed 
of  following. 


SULTANETTA.  351 

Very  soon  their  minds  were  distracted  by  the  renewed 
cannonading,  and  all  forgot  the  horseman. 

Before  night  the  breach  had  become  practicable;  the 
Russians  were  preparing  for  the  onset,  when  suddenly, 
from  the  side  next  the  forest,  they  were  attacked  by 
mountaineers. 

Tlie  terrible  cry,  "  Allah  il  Allah !  "  was  answered 
from  the  walls  of  Anapa. 

But  the  Russians  turned  their  guns  on  these  unlooked- 
for  assailants  and  soon  scattered  the  mountaineers,  who 
took  to  flight,  leaving  their  dead  and  wounded  on  the 
battle-field,  and  howling,  "  Giaours  !  giaours  !  " 

But,  from  the  beginning  of  this  affair,  and  up  to  the 
moment  when  the  battle-field  was  cleared,  the  Russians 
could  see  in  front  of  them  a  Circassian  mounted  on  a 
white  horse  held  at  a  walk,  and  moving  back  and  forth 
before  the  Russian  batteries,  unmindful  alike  of  the  balls 
and  bullets  that  were  raining  around  him. 

The  impassiveness,  and,  above  all,  the  invulnerability 
of  the  mountaineer  rendered  the  gunners  furious.  The 
balls,  ripping  the  earth  around  him,  dashed  it  under  his 
horse's  feet.  The  horse  reared  and  plunged,  but  his  rider 
kept  the  frightened  creature  to  his  course,  soothing  him 
with  his  hand,  and  apparently  heedless  of  the  danger 
enveloping  him  on  every  side. 

"  The  horse  for  me  and  twenty-five  roubles  for  you, " 
said  an  officer  of  artillery  to  the  artillery-man  of  his  bat- 
tery, "  if  you  bring  down  that  knave. " 

The  artillery-man  looked  up. 

"  I  have  aimed  at  him  three  times  already,"  said  he, 
"and  it  must  be  that  the  devil  himself  is  sitting  that 
horse;  but,  captain,"  he  continued,  "you  may  load  my 
gun  with  my  own  head  for  the  next  shot,  if  I  miss  him 
this  time." 


352  SULTAN  ETTA. 

And,  having  pointed  his  cannon  with  especial  care,  he 
took  the  match  from  his  comrade's  hand  and  fired  it 
himself. 

For  an  instant,  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  any- 
thing ;  but  soon  the  smoke  was  dissipated  and  they  saw 
the  frightened  horse  dragging  his  master's  body,  whose 
foot  was  caught  in  the  stirrup. 

"  Hit !  dead !  "  cried  the  soldiers. 

The  young  officer  lifted  his  helmet,  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  and  leaped  over  the  battery  to  catch  tlie  horse, 
which  was  a  fine  animal,  bom,  as  well  aa  they  could 
judge,  in  Khorassan. 

He  was  very  soon  caught.  The  animal  kept  moving 
in  the  same  circle,  dragging  the  mountaineer's  body. 

The  ball  had  taken  off  an  arm  of  the  latter  near  the 
shoulder;  but  he  was  still  breathing. 

The  young  officer  summoned  four  gunners  and  had 
the  dying  man  carried  to  his  oAvn  tent. 

He  himself  went  for  the  surgeon. 

But,  upon  examining  the  frightful  wound,  the  surgeon 
declared  that  the  shoulder  would  have  to  be  disjointed, 
and  that  the  man  would  die  under  the  operation. 

It  was  better,  then,  to  let  him  die  quietly  from  his 
wound  than  to  cause  him  to  die  sooner  and  more 
painfully. 

The  surgeon  ordered  a  refreshing  drink,  the  only 
relief  that  he  could  give  the  sufferer. 

The  officer  sat  alone  in  his  tent  beside  his  guest  in  the 
pangs  of  death,  having  no  one  near  him  but  a  Tartar 
interpreter,  whom  he  could  summon  in  case  of  returning 
consciousness,  when  the  dying  man,  whom  he  easily 
recognized  as  a  chief,  miglit  have  some  last  request  to 
make. 

Towards  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  wounded  man 


SULTANETTA-  353 

seemed  troubled,  often  sighing,  as  if  some  vision  were 
taking  part  in  his  death-struggle. 

The  young  officer  rose,  held  the  lantern  close  to  the 
face  of  the  injured  man,  who  had  not  yet  regained  con- 
sciousness, and  regarded  him  more  attentively  than  he 
had  yet  done. 

The  expression  of  the  man's  countenance  was  sad; 
deep  wrinkles  furrowed  his  brow  and  disfigured  a  face 
that  must  have  been  beautiful  before  having  been  ploughed 
by  the  unruly  passions  of  which  it  bore  trace.  It  was 
easy  to  see,  however,  that  its  wan  look  proceeded  rather 
from  the  sorrows  of  life  than  from  the  painful  seizure  of 
death. 

His  breathing  became  more  and  more  labored. 

With  his  remaining  hand,  he  seemed  to  be  striving  to 
thrust  back  some  vengeful  apparition.  At  last,  his 
speech  found  utterance,  and,  after  a  few  unintelligible 
words,  the  officer  and  the  interpreter  succeeded  in  grasp, 
ing  these :  — 

"  Blood !  forever  blood !  "  murmured  the  mutilated 
man  looking  at  his  remaining  hand,  the  right  hand. 
"  Why  have  you  covered  me  with  his  blood-stained  gar- 
ment? Am  I  not  already  wading  in  blood?  Do  not 
drag  me  in  that  direction,  back  to  life.  Life  is  hell ! 
The  grave  is  so  quiet,  and  so  cool !  —  "  Again  he  fainted, 
and  the  words  died  on  his  lips. 

The  officer  asked  the  interpreter  for  some  water,  dipped 
his  hand  in  the  glass,  and  with  his  fingers  sprinkled  the 
face  of  the  dying  one. 

The  latter  quivered,  opened  his  eyes,  shook  his  head 
as  if  to  avoid  the  enveloping  shadow  of  death,  and  then, 
by  the  glimmering  light  of  the  lantern  which  the  inter 
preter  was  holding,  he  perceived  the  captain. 

From  being  vague,  his  gaze  became  fixed  and  wild. 
23 


354  8ULTANETTA. 

He  stared  at  the  officer,  tried  to  rise  on  the  missing 
arm,  fell  hack,  and  rose  on  the  other. 

His  hair  stood  on  end,  the  perspiration  rolled  from  his 
tirow,  his  pale  face  became  livid,  his  countenance  little 
by  little  assumed  an  expression  of  profoundest  terror. 

"  Your  name  ?  "  he  said  in  a  shaking  voice,  that  no 
longer  held  anything  of  human  semblance.  "  Who  are 
youf  Are  you  a  messenger  from  the  tombt  Tell  mei 
speak  !  answer !  " 

"  My  name  is  Verkovsky, "  responded  the  young  man, 
briefly. 

These  words,  very  simple  in  themselves,  produced 
the  effect  of  a  kandjiar- thrust  in  the  wounded  man's 
heart.  He  shrieked,  shuddered,  and  fell  back  on  his 
pillow. 

"  This  man  was  undoubtedly  a  great  sinner, "  said  the 
young  officer,  sadly,  addressing  himself  to  the  interpreter. 

*•  Or  a  great  traitor, "  the  latter  added ;  **  he  must  be, 
or  he  must  have  been, — for  he  is  dead, —  some  Russian 
deserter.  I  have  never  heard  a  mountaineer  speak  our 
tongue  \rith  such  purity.  Let  us  look  at  his  weapons ; 
we  shall  there  find,  perhaps,  some  inscription.  The 
armorers  of  Kouba,  Andrev,  and  Koubatche  often  add  to 
their  own  name  the  name  of  the  one  for  whom  the 
weapon  is  made." 

And,  drawing  the  kandjiar  from  the  dead  man's  girdle, 
be  began  to  examine  the  blade. 

This  inscription  was  engraved  in  gold  on  the  burnished 
steel. 

**  Be  sloto  to  offend^  and  quick  to  avenge.** 

The  interoreter  translated  it  for  the  young  officer. 

"Yes,  that  is  a  maxim  of  these  brigands,"  said  the 
latter.  **  My  poor  brother,  the  colonel,  fell  a  victim  of 
one  of  these  wretches." 


SULTANETTA.  355 

The  young  man  brushed  away  a  tear.  Then,  to  the 
interpreter  he  continued :  — 

"  Now  examine  the  sheath. " 

The  interpreter  detached  the  sheath  from  the  dead 
man's  girdle,  and  found  engraved  thereon  these  words  in 
the  Tartar  character :  — 

"  /  was  made  for  Ammalat  Beg" 


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